


Legolas Elrondion

by MidnightEternal



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Thranduil, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Elven siblings, Elvish, Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imaladris family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Major Character Injury, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Abuse, Protective Elrond, Rivendell | Imladris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightEternal/pseuds/MidnightEternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond has always cared more for Legolas than Thranduil ever knew how to. An argument, and a banishment send Legolas back to his true home in Imladris. Is Thranduil willing to let things lie? Or is Legolas still in danger in his place of happiness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some information, before you start this story: 
> 
> Legolas is portrayed as being younger than both the twins and Arwen. I know there is a lot of debate about Legolas age, some say he was born around TA 87. I, myself, like to think he was at least born after the twins, so I stand with those who say that he was born after TA 130-ish. Aragorn has not yet been born. We’re likely somewhere in the early side of the Third Age here, but I couldn’t give you an exact age for any of the characters. I’d say none of Elrond’s children are yet 1000 years old, and Legolas is at least a hundred years younger than the twins. Legolas does not share any of his father’s ideals, and is accepting of all creatures of Middle Earth, and despite that fact that he can fight, and quite well at that, he does not enjoy it, and prefers the quiet peace of a high tree. He is also very protective of those he cares for, or comes to care for. The rest, you will see as the story goes on.
> 
> Warnings: Abuse, mentions of child abuse, major character injuries. Trigger warning, please keep yourselves safe.
> 
> Some translations for words that appear often (others will be translated at the end of their sentence):  
> Adar/ada – Father/Dad  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Tinu nin – My (small) star  
> Penneth – Young one  
> Gwador – Sworn brother  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Ion nin – My son  
> Hannon le – Thank you  
> Sîdh – Peace

“You cannot send more, you’ll be signing their deaths!” Legolas’ voice echoed across the cavern that housed his father’s throne room.  
  
Thranduil’s gaze blazed as he looked at his son, a snarl quickly forming on his face. “You dare speak against me?”  
  
“I dare to, because no one else will! Your subjects fear you, adar, but I do not,” the smaller elf stood defiantly in front of his father, his will unbendable.  
  
_Lord Elrond,_  
  
_Our plans for me to return to you and my brothers has changed, I fear that Thranduil has gone mad, I fear what will become of me once I return to the palace from my current patrol._  
  
Thranduil raged, pacing in front of his throne like a caged animal, he stopped suddenly, and snapped his head around to face Legolas.  
  
“And what do you, fearless one, think I should do?” The Elven King sneered.  
  
If possible, Legolas stood taller, back straight against his king, “Stop sending the younger elves out! Wait for the stronger patrols to come back and fight with them, all you’re doing is killing your people!”  
  
“Insolent fool!” Thranduil bellowed, stalking forward until he was face to face with his son. “You presume to know how to run my kingdom?”  
  
“I needn’t presume anything. I know. I have seen our people come home, while you are safe here on your throne, I am fighting with them! The last patrol had the least losses of all that you’ve sent this month!”  
  
_I regret that I may say something out-of-turn. Someone needs to stand up to his ways. It is not safe here._  
  
“And where were you, dear elfling, while my warriors fought?”  
  
Legolas looked rebelliously into his father’s eyes. “I was with them! We arrived at the gates this morning, or had you not noticed?”  
  
Thranduil hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he didn’t care. Legolas’ stance, though strong, was guarded. Unknown hurts lay beneath his tunic, and his face was drawn, and tired, from many nights on watch. His patrol had been filled with many unexperienced warriors, and as a leader, it was his duty to protect them.  
  
_I am weary, ada. I fear I will not make it to Imladris alone. This is one of those rare times that I truly ask for help._  
  
Legolas didn’t see it coming, or he would have dodged as quickly as warriors do in the wild. Thranduil drew back his hand and struck him across the face, the blow had enough force to send Legolas’ weakened body to the floor. The guards at the door looked on. There were those in Mirkwood that believed the King was just in his actions, that he was simply protecting their land. And there were those who saw the errors in his ways, and kept watch over Legolas when he defended them. Unfortunately, Thranduil’s personal guards were the former.  
  
The King picked up his stunned son by the front of his tunic, and threw him down onto the steps of the throne. The stone was unforgiving against Legolas’ back, and his cheek stung from Thranduil’s hand. Fortunately, he recovered quickly, such events had happened many times in the past after all. But he was not quick enough to stop the boot that kicked at his torso, purposefully aiming at his ribs, nor the maddened look that took his birth father in its hold and persuaded him to step on his ankle as he walked past, nor the groan of pain that escaped his lips.  
  
_The path we made together is still open, ada, it will guide you here faster than any other. The trees still sing of light outside of Mirkwood’s boarders. Await me there._  
  
“Are you finished, my lord? Or would it please you to strike me some more?” Legolas asked with a fierce growl.  
  
“You have spoken out unchecked far too many times, elfling. Such disobedience cannot be allowed to spread. By my will as King, I hereby banish you from Mirkwood. You are never to return here, and doing so will be met with a shoot-on-sight warrant, the Elven Realms will hear of your treachery!” Thranduil hissed. “You have until noon. Guards! Take this creature to his rooms to collect whatever pitiful belongings he may have.”  
  
The two guards came forward, and rather roughly dragged Legolas to his feet, pulling his arms behind his back in a tight grip, and shoving him forward despite his injuries.  
  
_Your son,_  
_Legolas_  
  
“If he tries anything, shoot him,” Thranduil said as they forced Legolas from the room.  
  
Legolas gritted his teeth as the guards pushed him towards his chambers, and then, in one motion, man-handled him through the doors. He staggered to keep his balance as the wood was slammed shut behind him. The golden-haired elf leaned on the wall to keep the weight off of his ankle, and moved as swiftly as he could towards the desk by the balcony. The doors were always open, and Legolas could see the sun shining brightly in the sky.  
  
“15 minutes at most, I’ll have to act quickly,” the Wood Elf muttered to himself.  
  
Turning to the desk, the elf whistled a soft and low tune, and his ears twitched towards the returning flap of wings. Smiling slightly, he lowered himself carefully onto the desk’s chair, and plucked a quill and a piece of parchment from their places on the desk. Dipping the quill lightly into some ink, he quickly penned a letter:  
  
_Lord Elrond,_  
  
_Our plan has changed yet again, unforeseen circumstances have come to pass, leading me unable to travel as far as the entrance of the path._  
  
The peck of a beak on an open glass window made Legolas look up.  
  
“Ah, Mori, just in time. Stay there my friend, I’ll be a moment more,” he said to the raven impatiently waiting for a message.  
  
_Watch the trees, ada, they will show you the way. I will go as far as I can, but I cannot say how far that is. Send Mori on to Imladris, he is faithful to me, and there is no place for us here anymore. I have been banished, ada, avoid all patrols and guards, their orders regarding me are not pleasant._  
  
_Stay safe, ada. I hope to see you soon._  
  
_Yours,_  
_Legolas_  
  
Legolas speedily tied the note to Mori’s leg and held him tight as he walked to the edge of the balcony. Mori stayed still until the final moment when Legolas’ hands opened, he rubbed his beak against his owner’s palm and then spread his wings, flying off into the forest in the distance. Legolas turned back to his desk, where his weapons lay, leaning against the wood. He pulled them on, securing his bow, arrows, and knives to his back. He needed nothing else, many of his things had already been moved to Imladris, to the point where his rooms there carried every personal item and memoir from his childhood, and time as a Mirkwood Warrior.  
  
The doors opened with a bang, and the guards marched in.  
  
“Your time is up, Prince of Mirkwood,” they jeered, notching their arrows and taking aiming at Legolas.  
  
The ex-Prince of Mirkwood ran at the balcony, leaping from its rails into the tree whose branches hung over it, as he fell to the tree, his porcelain hands gripping at its bark, the guard’s arrows rained down on him. He moved swiftly through the tree, swinging to the other side of its reach, onto the next tree, and the next. More guards chased him, firing their arrows into the trees as he ran, each step was agony, a crushing pressure on his ribs, and a constant ache for his ankle. His back was bruised deeply, other assorted cuts and bruises covered his body from the month on patrol, and his head… it was spinning freely, as if the world didn’t know how to stop.  
  
Unfortunately, the spinning feeling was Legolas’ downfall, as he raced out of the gates of the palace grounds, and into the thick forest of Mirkwood, he misstepped, and an arrow embedded itself into his firing shoulder. The wound burned, but he could not stop to break the arrow, not yet. He kept running, losing the guards and warriors loyal to the King was a priority.

* * *

  
Three horses galloped through a safe passage in the misty mountains, atop them were three half-elves, a determined look on each of their faces. The call of a raven caught the front rider’s attention, and he signalled the others to come to a halt. The raven swooped down and landed in the rider’s hands.  
  
“It is Mori, Legolas’ messenger bird,” Elrond informed his twin sons, looking at the green ribbon that adorned the raven’s neck.  
  
Seeing the message strapped to the bird’s leg, Elrond quickly untied it and unfurled the note. The Lord of Imladris experienced the same sense of dread he’d had when he opened the last letter he got from his adopted son little under a week ago. As his eyes glanced over the curves of his son’s writing, his brow furrowed.  
  
“Damn!” Elrond hissed under his breath, “Plans have changed, we need to hurry and meet Legolas on his way. Quickly now. Mori, to Imladris with you, Erestor will care for you.”  
  
The raven flew off in the opposite direction, and Elrond spurred his horse on. The twins shared a worried glance for their brother, and rode after their father. The great river, Anduin, was in their sights, and afterwards, they would be close to the boarders of Mirkwood.

* * *

  
Legolas found sanctuary in a high oak tree after finally losing his chasers, and sat in her branches for a small reprieve. Dull, blue eyes snapped open on his exhausted face, and he clambered to his feet on the thick tree branch, keeping all of his weight on one leg, the other dangling from the tree slightly. He gazed at the surrounding area from his perch, keeping one hand on the oak for balance.  
  
“Is anyone coming, my friend?” Legolas questioned the aged oak.  
  
_“No, my prince, you are safe here. Rest. I will keep you in my branches until the Kind One comes.”_  
  
Knowing that the oak spoke of his adoptive father, Legolas relaxed in her leaves. The Wood Elf sat back against the oak’s trunk and reached around to the arrow still protruding from his shoulder blade. He quickly snapped the thin arrow, an amateur’s work, hissing quietly against the pain of pulling at the wound.  
  
“I guess I won’t be using a bow any time soon,” he grimaced.  
  
By his reckoning, he must have been just outside the boarders of Mirkwood. The Great River was easily visible, and he knew beyond that lay the hidden path towards Imladris. Legolas smiled slightly at the thought of everyone again.  
  
“Glorfindel has the best stories. Erestor always knows exactly what books I want to read based on how I look when I enter the library. ‘Dan and ‘Ro are always messing around, pranking people and making ada angry. Ada… Ada knows how to make things better.” Legolas whispered to himself, his eyes slipping shut as he fell into a restless doze.

* * *

  
“Elladan, what is that?” Elrohir asked his brother as his gaze caught the figure of something in a tree.  
  
“I do not know, ‘Ro. It… looks to be an elf. Ada?” Elladan quizzed, bringing his horse to a stop as they drew nearer.  
  
The Elf Lord looked up into the tree, and almost immediately spotted the golden hair of his youngest son.  
  
“Ai! ‘Tis Legolas!” The Lord exclaimed in shock.  
  
The small party of elves moved under the tree, and all of their eyes turned upwards to the still figure. Elrond could make out the patches of red on Legolas’ green tunic, and the way his arms wrapped themselves around his torso concerned him, greatly.  
  
“Elladan, would you climb up to your brother and help him down? I fear he will need the assistance,” Elrond asked.  
  
Elladan set to work climbing the oak, some of the branches moved to help him, and in the back of his mind, he figured that his youngest brother probably had something to do with that. Finally reaching the branch that held Legolas’ form, Elladan leant over and studied him. His brother’s face was paler than usual and there was an alarming amount of blood seeping into the shoulder of his clothing. His cheek was badly bruised, and for some reason, this, out of everything, angered the half-elf the most.  
  
“Tithen las? ‘Las? ‘Tis ‘Dan,” Elladan called, reaching over a hand to place against the unmarked side of Legolas’ face.  
  
The touch seemed to wake the elf easier, his dark, tired eyes blinked open, and his gaze shifted to Elladan’s.  
  
“There you are. We’re here now, tithen las. You can come home. Ada and ‘Ro are on the ground,” Elladan explained slowly to his weary brother.  
  
“’Dan?” Legolas questioned softly, shifting to sit himself up.  
  
“Aye, it’s me, little one, shall we get you down? Ada is waiting,” Elladan replied as he helped his brother sit, moving his legs gently off of the branch so that he could start climbing down.  
  
“It hurts ‘Dan. I don’t know if I can get down,” Legolas murmured.  
  
As if in answer, the oak moved more of its branches, making an easier route for the Wood Elf. Legolas placed a scratched up hand on her bark and whispered his thanks.  
  
Elladan watched Legolas climb down with eyes of a hawk, slowly guiding his every movement, and ensuring that the golden-haired elf made it down to their father with no more injuries than he already had. Elrond awaited them at the bottom and his strong arms helped Legolas down the final stretch of the tree trunk, keeping him in his arms even when his youngest’s feet were firmly on the ground.  
  
“I have you, tinu nin. I have you,” Elrond said, stroking Legolas’ hair.  
  
“You came for me,” Legolas said, his voice muffled by Elrond’s robes.  
  
“Of course we did, ‘Las,” Elrohir interjected.  
  
“But you shouldn’t have. I’ve put you in danger. Thranduil… he will not stop,” Legolas said with a tone of regret lacing his every word.  
  
“Are you delirious, gwador?” Elladan asked.  
  
“We will always come for you,” Elrohir finished.  
  
It was only when Elrond’s fingers wiped across his face that Legolas realised he’d shed tears. He gazed up into his true father’s eyes and saw only love and concern. But he also saw an underlying anger, a murderous intent not directed at him, but at an invisible foe. His grey eyes flicked from his own gaze, to the dark imprint on his face.  
  
“Come, ion nin, let’s get you home,” Elrond said, brushing Legolas’ hair from his eyes.  
  
Legolas looked to be swaying slightly, and so, Elrond called Elladan over to hold him.  
  
“Can you pass me your brother once I’ve mounted? I do not believe he’ll be upright much longer. Try not to let him bare much weight on his ankle, I fear the damage done to it,” Elrond seethed, after taking in the state of his blue-eyed son with a heated glaze over his eyes and a raised brow.  
  
Elladan agreed and carefully helped Legolas limp towards the horse. And then lifted his light body up in front of their father once the elder elf had seated himself. The Wood Elf swayed until Elrond wrapped an arm lightly across his middle, urging the elf to lie against his chest, Legolas did so, and wrapped his uninjured arm over Elrond’s, while his other lay lightly in his lap. With some concern, Elrond noted the partial shaft of arrow sticking out from his son’s shoulder, and brushed against the nearest bit of uninjured flesh.  
  
“We will tend to this soon. It was good that you left it in, I do not want to think what may have happened, had the blood flow not ceased.”  
  
Legolas shifted his head so that it rested against his father’s shoulder, and nestled against him, a reassurance, if nothing else. Noting that the twins were mounted, Elrond set off. His arm unconsciously tightened around Legolas’ middle, making the elf give a small moan of protest. A pale hand shot out and gripped at Elrond’s robes.  
  
“Hush, I am sorry, tinu nin, your ribs too? Any other injuries I should know about before we arrive home?” Elrond lightly questioned, trying to remain calm.  
  
“Usual patrol injuri-ah!” Legolas hissed quietly as his body was jolted by the ride. “And perhaps some bruising to my back.”  
  
“I shouldn’t ask, should I? It can wait until we are sitting in the halls of healing. I will only get angry over it, and we are much too close to the palace for me to not do something rash,” Elrond reasoned with himself.  
  
Legolas smiled against Elrond’s shoulder. _‘Kind One’_ , the oak had said, but there were many more words that could describe his father. Protective, loving, caring. Things that Thranduil was not, and never had been.  
  
It was not long into the journey through the hidden passage; nestled between the misty mountains in a place no one thought to look, that the rise and fall of Elrond’s chest, mixed with the songs of the surrounding trees made Legolas softly drift to sleep. Elrond noted with some concern, and a slight murderous thought towards a certain Elven King, that his son had not loosened his grip on the Elven Lord’s hand, which still rested lightly across his waist.  
  
“Ai, tithen las, what have they done to you?” Vilya’s holder whispered, his voice a mere breath against the winds, his hand turning to grip his son’s from where the limbs lay together.  
  
The ride to Imladris was hard, their horses galloped through the winding path, trees opening up to reveal more solid ground hidden beneath their boroughs. As they entered the grounds of the Last Homely House, the sun seemed brighter at its point in the late afternoon sky; shining across the green summer fields. Elrond brought his dark-haired steed to a stop in the courtyard.  
  
“Elladan, Elrohir, come, take your brother for a moment. Try not to wake him, I fear he needs the rest,” the Lord commanded gently.  
  
The twins did as they were bid, lifting their woodland brother from their father’s arms and settling his thin form into Elladan’s for a moment. Elladan kept his brother’s body supported, keeping as much pressure as possible off of his injured arm, while Elrohir soothed Legolas’ small groans of protest, stroking the back of his fingers across his brother’s heated brow.  
  
Once Elrond had safely dismounted, and all three horses were being taken to the stables, Elladan cautiously passed Legolas back to their father, the twins watched as the Elf Lord’s strong arms took hold of the precious package, tucking the elf safely against his torso, one arm under his knees, the other supporting his head. Legolas looked small and frail against Elrond’s form, and the twins didn’t take their eyes off of him as they followed their father to the Halls of Healing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, mellyn nin! 
> 
> Warnings: Abuse, mentions of child abuse, major character injuries. Trigger warning, please keep yourselves safe.
> 
> Some translations for words that appear often (others will be translated at the end of their sentence):  
> Adar/ada – Father/Dad  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Tinu nin – My (small) star  
> Penneth – Young one  
> Gwador – Sworn brother  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Ion nin – My son  
> Hannon le – Thank you  
> Sîdh – Peace

When Legolas next awoke it was to a brightly lit room. The windows were open across from him, and he could see the sun rising over the hill-covered valley of Imladris, the rustle of the trees in the morning air were soothing, their leaves added to their song of dawn. He eased himself up in the bed, noting the softness of the blankets, and the warm they’d provided. A warm cloth fell from his head, and he moved it to the bedside table. His shifting grabbed the attention of an older elf who was steaming athelas near his bedside, for the calming scent to fill the room. Elrond’s gaze settled on Legolas and a small smile settled itself on his face. Without words, the Elven Lord walked over to his youngest and pulled him up into a wary embrace, cautious of the elf’s injuries. Legolas wasn’t long in his grasp when he felt the tell-tale dampening of his shoulder. Elrond pulled away to hold the Wood Elf at arm’s length, and ran his thumb across the back of Legolas’ slender hand. With the other hand, he wiped away the blue-eyed elf’s tears and let his hand rest of the unbruised side of his fever-flushed face.  
  
“Why do you weep, ion nin?” The Lord asked.  
  
More tears seemed to come then, as if the weight that had rested on the Wood Elf’s shoulders for so long suddenly threatened to crush him. Fear set itself deeply into his darkened eyes.  
  
“You should not have come, I have been banished, my Lord, the elven realms will be against me if the King has his way,” Legolas bemoaned, silver-like tears flowing silently down his rosy cheeks.  
  
“Ai, penneth. You forget that Thranduil has no control here. And you, tinu nin, are loved by all realms, they have seen and heard the King’s madness. No harm will come to you here,” Elrond said, softly.  
  
“Hannon le, my Lord, hannon le,” Legolas continued, falling forward into Elrond’s arms with a hitch in his breath.  
  
Elrond pressed the golden-haired elf to his chest and lightly commented: “’Tis _‘ada’_ , penneth. Not ‘My Lord’.”  
  
“Sorry, ada,” Legolas mumbled, quietly.  
  
The twins chose that moment to walk in on them, carrying fresh water and bandages. Their strained faces relaxed at the scent of athelas, and upon looking at their entwined father and brother, a smile painted itself on their lips. They stood silently as their ada wiped away the last of their little brother’s tears. Legolas shuffled out of their father’s arms, sat up, and looked directly at them, smiling, which confused Elrond for a mere moment, until his gaze fell on his eldest sons as well.  
  
“Come, my sons,” he smiled.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir did as they were bid and came to sit on either side of their woodland brother, Elladan held the bandages uncertainly, while Elrohir placed the basin of water on the table.  
  
“I apologise, tithen las, but they must be changed,” Elrond said, gesturing to the blood-stained cloth that covered the elf’s shoulder and chest.  
  
Legolas nodded, his body clenching in fear as Elrond began unwrapping his shoulder. As the bandage came undone, the residue blood stuck the last part of the cloth to the elf’s shoulder. Elladan passed his father a slightly damp cloth, and he took it, using it to work off the last of the wrap. As he worked, a wave of pain ran through Legolas, causing his hand to etch upwards towards his shoulder. Elrohir caught it in mid-air, and gave the scratched up limb a small squeeze of reassurance. Legolas brought the younger twin’s hand inwards to his chest as he doubled over, his long golden hair falling to cover his contorted face as he coughed harshly.  
  
“Ai, Valar! Ion nin, are you alright?” Elrond asked, stopping his ministrations, and lifting Legolas’ pallid face up.  
  
The three half-elves gasped at the blood slowly dripping from Legolas’ lips, the Wood Elf suddenly pitched sideways, Elrond caught him by the shoulder, and with Elladan’s help they lowered him down to the many pillows that lined his healing bed. A small mark of blood lay in the elf’s limp hand, but the other hand stay clutched in Elrohir’s. Legolas’ blue eyes became hidden again, dazed behind heavy eyelids squeezed together in agony. Elrond carefully cut off the bandages covering his chest, his brow creasing at the many bruises. He felt along the ribs he knew to be cracked. The twins grimaced at the sight of their brother’s molten chest, covered in misshapen bruises of purples and blacks. His fair elven skin marred by painful hurts.  
  
“His lungs are fine, this is just left over from his injuries. Mayhap, if we had stopped on the road to check him over…” Elrond trailed off.  
  
“You can’t have known, ada, Las is lucky, the injury could have been much worse,” Elrohir soothed, “He’s slept through the worst of it, after all, if we’d stayed near Mirkwood, who knows what could have happened?”  
  
Elrond nodded solemnly, the gaze of his eyes scanning over his indisposed son. “There is naught we can do, than let him cough the remaining blood up. Come, let us clean the young one up.”  
  
The Lord of Imladris worked tirelessly, re-stitching Legolas’ shoulder while the twins held him still on his side and rubbed a healing salve over his many bruises. Though harsh the marks on his front were, those on his back ran deep, solid in their lines across his youngest’s shoulder blades and lower back. Elrohir easily brought Legolas’ leg out from under the blankets and propped it onto a pillow while he looked over the cracked ankle. While it was once broken, the small amount of days in the Halls of Healing had healed it well.  
  
“Why would he do this? To his own blood…” Elrohir asked quietly, rewrapping the delicate ankle he held.  
  
“Thranduil is not of our kind, he has fallen! A monster in elven skin!”  
  
Disgusted at the action of raising his voice in anger, Elrond fell back into the chair at Legolas’ bedside, and head downcast, he used a hand to his eyes. His right arm was resting upon the bed, his fingers curled into the sheets next to Legolas’ prone body. Two pairs of arms suddenly circled him.  
  
“’Tis not your fault, ada,” Elladan stated.  
  
“You must not blame yourself,” Elrohir said, his arms embracing his father tighter.  
  
As if on cue, a fragile hand weakly grasped Elrond’s, and the adoring gaze of blue eyes bore into his. Voice weak, Legolas spoke:  
  
“You are a better ada than he ever was.”  
  
Elrond’s eyes could barely contained their expression of joy. He took Legolas’ hand and encased it in both of his. Elladan came around the other side of the bed and sat by the injured elf, stroking his long, golden hair. Elrohir, on the other hand, perched carefully on the bed just past the Wood Elf’s knees, smoothing his hand down his brother’s leg.  
  
“Hannon le, ion nin,” Elrond said, his thumb running over his son’s hand, “Hannon le.”  


* * *

  
Parchment in hand, Elrond walked briskly to the Healing Wards. Upon opening the doors, he found Elrohir sitting by Legolas, taking his twins place in comforting the injured Wood Elf by stroking his golden hair. Elladan, however, looked conflicted as he stared at the window into the night star-filled sky. Seeing his ada’s reflection in the window, his expression brightened somewhat, and Elladan whipped around.  
  
“Ada! You have it?” Elladan asked excitedly.  
  
“Peace, ion nin, I have it,” Elrond said. “Now tell me, is something wrong?”  
  
Elrond walked over to his son and sat on the windowsill with him. Elladan looked up.  
  
“I feel so sad and angry… It’s just so conflicting! How could he do this to Legolas?! How can any father do this to his son? I’m so angry at Thranduil, and sad for Legolas, knowing he’s lying there in pained sleep with the knowledge his own father did this to him! I just feel so… ugh!” Elladan finished, bringing his hands up to cover his face.  
  
”Ai, ion nin… ‘Tis fine now. I will foster Legolas and we will all be together at last. You need not hold your sorrow or your anger inside yourself. This is something I should have done years ago… When I first met a bright blue eyed elfling, hiding behind his mother’s skirts, and keeping as much distance from his father as he could.”  
  
”I just want him to be happy, ada, I want Legolas to be safe,” Elladan explained.  
  
”And he is,” Elrond said softly, looking over to where Legolas lay with Elrohir resting next to him.  
  
Elladan followed his line of vision and smiled.  
  
”Aye, he is,” Elladan said walking over to his brothers.

* * *

  
”El… Elladan?” Came a pained voice.  
  
“Legolas?” Elladan said with wonder and quickly went over to help his brother up into a sitting position, removing the warm cloth from his brow.  
  
Elrond came over shortly after, just as Elrohir woke up.  
  
”Are you all right, tithen las?” Elladan asked his disorientated brother.  
  
”I... think so…”Legolas said, voice weak from lack of use.  
  
Elrohir’s hand found Legolas’ and the Wood Elf started coughing harshly. Legolas’ grip was weak and his skin pale, Elrond put the back of his hand against his son’s forehead, the document long forgotten in place Legolas’ well-being.  
  
”He’s fine, the fever is still there, but he’s wide-awake,” Elrond diagnosed, giving his youngest a smile, “He’ll be coughing up blood for a couple of days, we need to keep an eye on him and when and only _when_ I say you can get out of bed, Legolas, you need to use a crutch for a few days too.”  
  
”Yes, ada,” Legolas replied with his own smile.  
  
”On a lighter note!” Elladan said, picking up a piece of parchment of the windowsill and giving it to Elrond. “Ada has something he wants to ask you, tithen las.”  
  
Elrohir sat up and scooted closer to his little brother as Elrond spoke.  
  
”Legolas, I would like your permission to formally foster you.”  
  
”Yes. Yes, yes, yes!” Legolas was overjoyed; escaping from his abusive ‘father’ was something he had only dreamt about, he had hoped for this. Though his visits to Imladris had always been plentiful, the sheer thought of returning to Mirkwood had sometimes sent him into a panic.  
  
Elrond adored this moment: the bright joy of Legolas’ eyes, and his twin sons holding the golden Elf gently.  
  
”Our muindor,” Elrohir and Elladan said vehemently, tightening their hold as much as they dared.  
  
Elrond opened a drawer and pulled out some ink and a quill, which he put it on a tray with the document and gave to Legolas, resting it lightly on his lap.  
  
”The signatures of the lords of this household, along with those of Lothlórien, are already written… It just needs yours.”  
  
Signing his name elegantly in Elvish, Legolas looked up with a smile.  
  
”Still as graceful…” Elladan started.  
  
”And elegant…” Elrohir continued.  
  
”… As always,” the twins finished together.  
  
As usual, they just made Legolas blush. It had been a long-running joke between the brothers that Legolas’ fair appearance made him more delicate, where is the twins with their human blood, were more likely to get dirty.  
  
”Elladan, would you go and see of Legolas’ circlet is finished? If it is, please put it in his rooms; they’ve been recently redecorated,” Elrond said with a tone of laughter at his youngest’s expression. He looked between shock and joy.  
  
“And Elrohir, would you take this to Erestor?” Elrond asked, handing over the newly-signed parchment. “He knows where to put it, our beloved Councillor should be hold up in the Library, as usual. Hopefully standing watch over Glorfindel so that he finishes his paperwork, for once.”  
  
“Yes, ada!” The twins replied, and giving Legolas a kiss on the forehead each, left to do their assigned tasks.  
  
Legolas watched Elrond’s movements as the Elf Lord placed he tray back on the bedside table, and wet a cloth for his fever. He seemed sluggish, as if sleep had evaded him the past few days. In his heart, Legolas knew that to be true. Seldom did the Lord of Imladris sleep when one of his own was hurt. As if sensing the Wood Elf’s gaze, Elrond looked up from his task of straightening the bed sheets.  
  
“Ada,” Legolas said quietly. “Come.”  
  
The golden-haired elf patted the newly flattened sheets, inviting his father to lie with him. The exhausted Lord looked at his equally tired son, and upon gazing into his bright eyes, with their look of pure love, he could not deny him. Elrond pulled back the blankets, and propped himself up on the headboard, pulling Legolas to him in an embrace. His long fingers stretched to reach the damp cloth, and placed in on Legolas’ warm head once more.  
  
“Hannon le, ada, for everything, but you must sleep, I will be well soon enough,” Legolas said quietly.  
  
“Indeed, you shall be. And scaring me half to death once more, no doubt. But you must sleep also, tithen las,” the holder of Vilya said. “Sîdh, penneth, I am here. Sleep.”  
  
Legolas’ eyes slipped closed, for his hurts were still many, and injured elves do not dream with eyes open to the world when it is the world that has hurt them.  
  
“Sîdh,” Elrond repeated, pulling his son closer, and running his long fingers through his son’s pale hair.  
  
It was not long before the Elven Lord succumbed to the days of stress, his head fell to Legolas’ and there he lay, an absent hand petting his son’s head until the sight of his eyes lost the world, joining his son in the land of dreams.

* * *

  
When Elladan and Elrohir re-entered the Halls of Healing the next morning, the sight before them filled their hearts with joy. If Arwen wasn’t in Lothlórien they’d probably hear a small high-pitched noise of happiness from her. Elrohir placed the wooden crutch they’d brought with them against the nearest window to the bed on which their father and brother lay, still entangled in each other’s arms. The twins went closer to the pair, and saw with some concern that Legolas’ eyes were closed where he lay, head against their father’s shoulder. One of his delicate hands rested on their ada’s chest, fisted in the folds of his shirt. Elrond was resting against the pillows, his silver eyes blank in sleep, but a hint of a smile upon his lips. The blanket had slipped down during the night, revealing Legolas’ bandaged torso, but the cloth for his fever had stayed in place.  
  
“Ai, Valar…” Elladan said.  
  
“Well, at least they’re sleeping,” Elrohir stated, a smile dancing on his lips.  
  
“I do not like that tithen las is sleeping with his eyes closed still. I thought he was healing well?” Elladan whispered, so as not to wake the pair.  
  
Elrohir felt Legolas’ brow, and noting that it was still warm, and that the elf was very slightly shivering, pulled the fallen blankets up to his chin. Elladan wrung the cloth back out and replaced it on Legolas’ head, leaving his hand to linger on his brother’s fevered cheek.  
  
“This fever stays with him…” Elladan said worriedly.  
  
Elrohir placed a calming hand on his brother’s arm, “I’m sure it is fine, likely his body needs the rest. Do not fret.”  
  
“Ada needs the rest too, by the looks of things,” Elladan mused.  
  
“I am awake, you realise?” Elrond’s voice drifted over, startling the twins from their conversation.  
  
“Morning, ada!” The twins said cheerfully, hiding their concern with a smile on their lips.  
  
Legolas stirred, whimpering quietly, and shivering despite the warmth provided by Elrond’s body. The Lord acted quickly, rubbing his thumb across the injured elf’s hand that gripped his shirt tighter in its grasp. He threw the twins a warning glance to stay quiet.  
  
“Sîdh, ion nin, all is well,” Elrond soothed.  
  
“Ada?” Came a murmur from Legolas’ lips.  
  
“I’m here, ion nin, I’m here,” Elrond replied, his hand brushing through Legolas’ golden hair.  
  
Legolas’ mind came into awareness slowly as he blinked his eyes open. As he tried to rise from his position against Elrond’s chest, the Lord rose with him, keeping his body upright despite his lack of strength.  
  
“I need to check your wounds, penneth,” he whispered, pressing his lips to his Mirkwood son’s temple.  
  
The young elf nodded, and Elrond began to unwind the cloth on his shoulder. Elladan came over with a bowl of clean water and a damp cloth, and Elrohir brought more bandages.  
  
“Hannon le, my sons,” Elrond said with a smile. “Legolas, your shoulder is healing fine. The wound has closed, and the skin looks healthy. You are in luck, penneth, it seems you will be firing your bow in no time.”  
  
“Why is it always my shoulder?” Legolas whispered, “I know that it is the logical thing to do, to aim for the shoulder of an archer, but to fire at an un-armed and injured warrior is just…”  
  
“Cowardly.”  
  
The small family’s heads all turned to the doorway where Glorfindel stood, a thunderous look on his face as he took in the sight of one of his dearest friends laying in the beds of the Healing Halls.  
  
“Glorfindel!” Legolas exclaimed in joy.  
  
“What have they done to you, tithen las?” The blond warrior questioned, walking over to inspect the Wood Elf’s shoulder. The wound, though now closed, was patchy and red, it looked deep. “That looks horrid, young one.”  
  
“The wound does not pain me as it once did,” Legolas smiled. “Though it would pain me less if I could get out of this bed…”  
  
“And I have no doubt you will soon be attempting that, Valar be good,” Elrond said. “This may hurt, tithen maethron, but you are doing so well.” (Little Warrior)  
  
Elrond began unwinding the supporting bandages from his fostered son’s chest, and slowly, the many bruises and scars adorning it appeared. As Elrond felt along the cracked ribs, Legolas hissed in pain. Glorfindel noted the fading bruises looked like the imprint of a boot. Someone tall, but lithe; an elf.  
  
“Almost healed, those that were once completely broken are only cracks now.”  
  
Elrohir, who had been checking over Legolas’ ankle again, looked up. “I’d estimate another two days and you’ll be up and walking on your own feet, dear brother.”  
  
“... We did, however, bring you that crutch,” Elladan began, gesturing to the wooden crutch leaning against the window. “Just in case you felt up to getting out of this bed, and perhaps sitting at the balcony?”  
  
“Hannon le,” Legolas thanked, a smile dancing on his lips.  
  
Erestor took that moment to walk in, and upon seeing Legolas’ bruised torso, quickened his steps forward. His slim hand ghosted over the still-healing bruises, and he gasped in shock. “These bruises look to be in the shape of a boot… My dear Legolas, did someone kick you?” Erestor asked.  
  
“As I thought…” Glorfindel added quietly.  
  
Legolas bowed his head, his golden hair falling from his shoulders and masking his face. “Thranduil,” he whispered, like a dark secret falling from his lips, he closed his eyes in despair.  
  
Elrond pulled him into an embrace before he was aware of him moving, the Lord was mindful of the bruises and hurts that covered his body. “Ai, ion nin, can you tell us what happened? It will help. These memories are too dark for you to carry alone.”  
  
“Only on one condition,” Legolas began with mirth. “Don’t start a war.”  
  
Various voices of uncertain agreement were heard.  
  
And so, Legolas began his story. Of his long patrol, and argument over the people of Mirkwood with his father, the moment he was struck; his hard fall onto the steps near the throne by the King’s hand, and the well placed kicks to his ribs. The feeling of his father walking over his ankle like it was nothing more than another step, and being basically dragged to his chambers by unfeeling guards who threw him into his rooms. The long chase through the forest of Mirkwood, which started from the leap out of his window, leading to getting shot in the shoulder by the pursuing guards.  
  
“And when I awoke, Elladan was calling me, and ada and Elrohir were waiting at the base of the tree,” Legolas ended with a watery smile.  
  
Elrond had kept Legolas in his embrace during the entire retelling, and to his dismay, he watched as his son wrapped his own arms around his bare waist, as if to keep himself from more harm. The Lord of Imladris placed a careful hand on Legolas’ pink cheek, frowning when the younger elf flinched, expecting a blow. Elrond stroked his thumb over his son’s cheek until his expression changed from fearful to embarrassed.  
  
“He’s not here, ion nin,” Elrond said, placing his other hand lightly on Legolas’ still-bruised cheek, the fading green and yellow tones taking away the colour from his face. “He’s not here.”

* * *

  
Only a while later, when Legolas had come down from his panic, Elrond rewrapped the cloths around his body, and forced a light sleeping shirt on him. The Lord worried for the young elf, who still occasionally shivered in the morning air. Eventually, the pale Wood Elf looked to his brothers.  
  
“So… Do I get to try walking today?”  
  
The twins grinned, a mischievous look in their eyes.  
  
“Ai, Valar, just be careful,” Elrond requested.  
  
“Of course, ada,” the three brothers chorused.  
  
“Mm. Why do I not believe that?” Elrond mumbled.  
  
“Glorfindel, will you make sure ada gets some actual rest? We can take it from here,” Elladan asked politely.  
  
“Of course,” Glorfindel replied.  
  
“Yes, because he is beginning to look like the living dead,” Elrohir whispered, Elladan grinning at his jest.  
  
“Come, my Lord, time for bed. The twins are right, you look as if you need the rest,” Glorfindel said in a serious voice, offering his arm to his Lord.  
  
Elrond gave Legolas a last peck to his brow, and took the Balrog-slayers arm, following him from the room. Erestor followed, mumbling something about tea, and Lords that don’t seem to sleep.  
  
Legolas sighed, “I wish he would not push himself for me.”  
  
“Ada does it because he loves you, tithen las,” Elladan said coming over to his bedside.  
  
“Yes, but-”  
  
“No buts. Now, let’s get you up and walking again. It’s unnerving not seeing you up in a tree or some high place, scaring ada half to death,” the eldest brother smiled, moving to help Legolas up.  
  
Once standing, Elladan let Legolas go to see if he could support himself. The elf stumbled slightly, but righted himself soon after. The first step he took was shaky, and a wince passed his face as he bared weight on his injured ankle. After the third step, Legolas’ leg buckled beneath him, and Elladan quietly jumped into action; catching the Wood Elf against his chest.  
  
“It’s all right, I’ve got you,” Elladan soothed.  
  
“I’m okay,” Legolas reassured, his eyes wide from the unexpected fall.  
  
Elrohir came over with the crutch and Legolas couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship. It was a beautifully crafted shaft of oak with an ivy vine pattern traveling up the side. Elrohir helped his twin steady their fledgling brother, and tucked the crutch under his uninjured left arm.  
  
“There now, try that,” the younger twin said softly.  
  
Legolas walked away from them both with a determined face, heading directly towards the open glass doors of the Healing Ward’s balcony. His muscles were straining and tense under his light clothes, but in his mind he knew that this was something he needed. After a small while, he came to rest at the barrier of the balcony, eyes clenched closed in exertion, supporting himself against the white frame, and carefully inhaling to catch his breath. The twins looked over their Woodland brother, and saw the lines of stress on his face slowly smooth out; the trees in the courtyard swaying behind him in the soft breeze of wind. A grin made its way to both of their faces as they witnessed, not for the first time, their brother converse with the nature around him, and his elven glow grow stronger than it had been in days.  
  
“Let him be, for a while,” Elladan whispered, taking in the small smile that had etched itself onto Legolas’ face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Glorfindel and Erestor in this chapter, please enjoy! Thank you for the kudos and the comments! :)

The sun had shifted in the sky by the time Legolas opened his now-bright blue eyes, and turned his gaze to the twins’.  
  
“I feel much better,” the Wood Elf stated, a smile still dancing across his pink lips.  
  
“I see that,” Elladan said with a grin. “Food, perhaps? I’d usually suggest sleep, but you seem quite energised.”  
  
Legolas looked uncertain, his appetite had always been rather small, but the month-long patrol, and subsequent arrival back at the palace had not allowed him many chances at a meal. Mirkwood was more dangerous than ever now, and he had feared for the more unexperienced warriors that Thranduil had thrown onto his patrol team. Other than the broth that Elrond had gotten him to drink whenever he had been awake long enough, his diet lately had been rather… lacking.  
  
“Something small?” Elrohir suggested, seeing Legolas’ expression.  
  
Legolas nodded stiffly, and with a small amount of effort, walked back into the halls and seated himself on his bed, accepting Elrohir’s help to recline against the pillows, not wanting to aggravate any of his injuries. Elladan had left quickly, to grab something light from the kitchens, leaving his two younger brothers to themselves. Elrohir watched over Legolas, focusing on the rise and fall of his too-thin torso, and his closed eyes.  
  
“Manen le?” Elrohir questioned, placing a light hand on Legolas’. (How are you?)  
  
Legolas curled around Elrohir’s hand as much as he could without causing himself further harm, his blue eyes gazing up into Elrohir’s friendly grey ones. “Im maer, amman?” (I’m fine, why?)  
  
Elrohir sighed softly, running his thumb over the back of Legolas’ hand. “I worry about you.”  
  
Legolas gave the younger twin an indulging smile, “I hear that a lot, from all of you. But you needn’t. I am safe here. Safer than I am anywhere.”  
  
Elrohir smiled a sad smile. “I wish that you had been born into our family, little brother. Rather than go through all the pain that you have.”  
  
Legolas looked down. “…Naethen.” (I’m sorry.)  
  
The black-haired elf brought his fingers under Legolas’ chin and lightly pushed his head up. “Why are you sorry, tithen las?”  
  
“I have brought sadness upon you, 'twas not my intention,” Legolas said mournfully.  
  
“''Tis not your fault, ‘Las, never your fault. I am sad for the hand of life you were dealt.”  
  
“I fear all I am good for is making you all sad. Mayhap you regret taking my burdens unto your own…” Legolas continued, a deep-set sadness coming to light in his eyes.  
  
Elladan chose that moment to walk across the room from the doorway he’d been stood at. “Oh, ‘Las. You have not made us sad, and we do not regret anything. Other than the amount of time we left you in that land of despair. But you are right, you are safe here. We, and ada, will ensure that. And we have Glorfindel. Glorfindel adores you, like a brother of his own. Perhaps a nephew would be more accurate?”  
  
“Only because Legolas is his only competition around here,” Elrohir interjected.  
  
“True.”  
  
Legolas laughed as lightly as he could, for fear of upsetting his still-healing ribs, the twins had always been able to pull him out of his dark places. Just like their father. _Elrond._  
  
“Has anyone checked on ada?” Legolas asked quickly, a frown etching itself on his pale features.  
  
Elladan lay a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sîdh, Legolas, I ran into Erestor in the kitchens, he’s still sleeping.” (Peace.)  
  
Legolas let out a breath of relief.  
  
“Speaking of, here,” Elladan brought forward a tray of broth and still-warm bread, motioning for Elrohir to lift their brother up against the pillows. “You need to eat all of that, tithen las, you’re looking quite thin. More than usual.”  
  
Legolas lightly smacked Elladan’s arm at the jest, but settled down to complete his task when the tray was firmly on his lap. The twins kept a watchful eye over Legolas while he ate, and they discussed menial things. Once the Wood Elf had finished, Elladan gave him a once over, and seeing that the elf still had plenty of energy left, smiled.  
  
“Are you up for moving back to your own rooms, ‘Las? I imagine you’d prefer the privacy of your own chambers. You seem strong enough.”  
  
Legolas grinned. “I would, did ada say it was alright?”  
  
“They are his orders. Based on if you were still awake enough after eating,” Elladan replied, taking away the tray on Legolas’ lap.  
  
Legolas carefully swung his legs off of the bed, with the grace an injured elf should not possess, and accepted Elrohir’s arm to pull himself up, slowly. Elladan gave him his crutch, and the twins flanked either side of him as they walked from the Halls of Healing. The journey to the side of the Last Homely House which contained the family rooms seemed longer than usual, and on the way they met many of the house staff who bid them a good afternoon, and gave well wishes for Legolas to recover soon. Then came the stairs. Elladan lead, while Elrohir stayed slightly behind Legolas, in case he lost his balance and fell. They made it to the top unscathed, but the twins noted that their Woodland brother was dangerously close to wrapping an arm around his ribs.  
  
“Perhaps we should have just carried him,” Elladan muttered to himself.  
  
The rest of the journey was uneventful, and they made to Legolas’ rooms without any problems. Upon opening the doors, Legolas saw that his rooms had been repainted slightly in colour. The walls a light blue that almost sparkled light the ocean in the sun’s rays. The elven warrior was happy to see his weapons in their usual resting place, near his large bed, leaning against the wall. An easy place for him to reach in an emergency. There were few sets of his clothes here, as he had taken to leaving them whenever he visited, but it was nowhere near a proper amount. He made note to talk to the seamstress about it; she was a kind elleth with a few elflings of her own.

The balcony doors were open, as they always were when Elrond knew he was coming to visit, and the late afternoon sun was fading over the horizon, giving birth to an array of oranges and pinks over the sky. Elladan steered him to the bed, where he gratefully lay down, the soft covers and plentiful amount of pillows seeming to encase him in their warmth. He stretched lightly, making a small noise of pleasure.  
  
“You’d think he was a cat,” Elladan remarked to his twin.  
  
Legolas opened one sky-blue eye to peer at his eldest brother. “I am comfortable. I have always loved this room, it is perfect. A haven inside of itself.”  
  
The trees swayed outside as if in agreement. The twins smiled at each other, pulling the turned-down sheets over Legolas’ form.  
  
“We will leave you to rest, young one. Losto Vae,” Elladan said in a voice no louder than a whisper, seeing Legolas’ chest rise and fall lightly. (Sleep well.)  
  
Legolas smiled into his pillows, and surrendered to his dreams.

* * *

  
Elrond awoke with a start. It was late, the sky was dark, and the stars glistened on their midnight blue canvas. He felt a sense of unease gripping at his heart, and he reached out to his children. Elrohir and Elladan’s minds were calm, no doubt asleep. Arwen too. But Legolas… Ai, there was a deep feeling of fear. Elrond stood quickly, donning a gown over his sleeping clothes, and raced out of his rooms to Legolas’. The feeling grew stronger as he reached the door; a desperate cry for help, a black smog of anguish. He pushed the doors open quickly, and hurried inside.  
  
His youngest lay with his head tossed to the side, eyes clenched shut against his dreams, his hands crushed into the sheets which trapped his curled up body beneath. As the Lord came closer, he saw the frown, and the burrowed brow, Legolas’ face pale in the starlight. Elrond smoothed his hand over Legolas’ hairline, brushing back his wayward strands of golden hair. He let his fingers come to rest at the elf’s temples, turning Legolas’ head to directly face his own. He called to him.  
  
_“Come, tinu nin, nothing can harm you here. Awaken.”_  
  
Legolas’ eyes snapped open, and he flinched away from Elrond’s touch, backing his body to the headboard, and wincing in pain in one motion. Elrond placed his hand back against Legolas’ pale cheek, looking deep into the wide and fearful eyes of his son.  
  
“All is well, penneth. You are home,” he spoke in a soothing voice.  
  
Legolas slowly reached up to place his own hand on Elrond’s, his skin was cooler than the Lord would like, but he had other pressing matters. Slow tears leaked from Legolas’ deep-blue eyes, trailing down beside their hands. Elrond lowered himself carefully to sit on the bed in front of Legolas, and brought his other hand up to wipe away the tears of distress.  
  
“You are home, penneth. Nothing can harm you here,” Elrond repeated, gazing into his youngest’s eyes.  
  
Slowly, Legolas relaxed, his body calming, and slumping forward under his own fatigue. More tears came, and Legolas looked up at Elrond through his lashes, a glimpse of shame circling his eyes.  
  
“Naethen, ada, goheno nin,” he choked out. (I’m sorry, dad/daddy, forgive me.)  
  
After hearing those words fall from his youngest’s mouth, Elrond quickly wrapped him in his embrace, circling his arms around Legolas’ shoulders, and pulling him tightly to his chest. Legolas rested his forehead on the Lord’s chest beneath his neck.  
  
“Do not apologise, ion nin, 'tis not your fault,” Elrond soothed, silently cursing Thranduil for the scars the King has left his son.  
  
The embrace lasted such a long time, Elrond feared that Legolas had fallen asleep, and decided to carefully lay his elfing back down on his bed. Elrond smoothed back the Wood Elf’s hair once more, but as he moved to get off of the bed, a hand grasped his gown, pulling gently.  
  
“Do not leave, ada. Saes?” Legolas whispered, his sleepy blue eyes gazing at him. (Please?)  
  
Elrond smiled, moving back onto the bed and getting under the blankets next to his son. “I will not leave if you do not want me to, penneth.”  
  
Legolas picked himself up slightly and moved over to Elrond, lying as much on his chest as he could, and wrapping his injured arm over the Lord’s waist. Elrond stroked his hair absently, waiting for Legolas to start talking by himself, he didn’t believe in pushing his children, they would talk when they wanted to.  
  
“It was about the first time he hit me. I remember it too well. I was only an elfling, nowhere near my majority, and all I had wanted was for him to take a moment to be with me, he was angry that day. A fire in his eyes that I cannot seem to forget. But then the dream changed, and it became the day that he took off his belt for the first time. The scars… have never faded. It was the first time I had rose above him in court. I do not regret speaking against him, his plans over the years have only gotten madder. I do regret ever thinking that he could love me. He blames me for the death of nana, the darkness falling upon his realm, the deaths of his warriors. He would blame me for the clouds blocking out the sun if he could.”  
  
Elrond listened with a heavy heart, all too aware of the many scars that covered Legolas’ elven body, of the broken bones, most of which that he, himself, had healed. If it was possible, he pulled Legolas closer to him, wrapping his arms back around his son, and resumed petting his hair.  
  
“I am thankful for one thing: that first summer spent here in Imladris. He had come for negotiations, and thought best to bring me along so that I would not get into trouble, and could come in his stead when I was older. I remember naneth was still alive then, and she let me run free with the twins. We became fast friends, and they must have seen some glimpse of my fear, for they vowed to protect me from Thranduil!” Legolas laughed. “And then there was you, ada. As if you sensed that something was not quite right, you managed to keep me far from Thranduil during our stay. He would not dare undermine you in your own home. I can still remember his face when you told the twins to take me outside to play. It was a sight to behold!”  
  
Elrond listened fondly to his youngest’s retelling, remembering those exact moments. The Elf Lord quite suddenly pictured the first time he’d met the elfing. A tiny little thing, even by elvish standards, hiding behind his mother’s skirts, on the opposite side to Thranduil. When the King had introduced his wife and son, it was Legolas’ naneth that had nudged him forward. The Princeling had walked forward with his eyes down until he had reached Elrond, who had knelt down to his level. He remembered the first time those big, blue eyes, like a storm caught between the sky and sea, had looked up at him. The young golden-haired elf had smiled slightly and bowed in the elven nature of sweeping his hand out from his heart. Legolas had captured Elrond’s heart from their first meeting.  
  
Elrond smiled in fondness, looking down at the top of Legolas’ golden head. The young elf was breathing deeply in sleep, but the small portion of his face that he could see showed him that his eyes were closed. Elrond waited for the day when Legolas was fully healed, the elf was usually so full of light and energy; climbing trees and crossing rooms from their balconies. There was a tree that leaned over Legolas’ balcony rails that he loved to climb down into the grassy courtyard, and from there, easily cross over into the gardens or the archery range. Elrond had built the smaller range near the gardens for his youngest son, a place for him to fire arrows or calm himself away from prying eyes.  
  
Steadying his breathing, Elrond settled for a night of light sleep, wanting to stay as close to consciousness as possible, in case his son needed him again.

* * *

  
When Legolas woke, it was to the sound of a steady and strong heartbeat, and the morning call of Imladris’ native birds. It was all too easy to recognise the feel of his ada’s solid chest beneath his head, having sought comfort from this position many times in the past. Instead of raising himself up out of bed, Legolas decided that a few more moments nuzzled into an embrace of safety wouldn’t hurt, and so, he lightly tightened his arm around Imladris’ Lord, and tucked his head in, laying half on Elrond in a foetal position.  
  
“Aur, tinu nin,” Elrond said lightly, startling his son slightly. (Good day, my star.) “I trust you slept well the second time around?”  
  
“Indeed, ada,” Legolas replied, stretching from where he lay, he winced as his ribs protested, causing Elrond to cradle him closer.  
  
“Be careful, ion nin,” he implored.  
  
“I am fine, ada, avaro naeth,” Legolas smiled, turning his head to look up at Elrond. (Don’t worry.) “Hannon le, ada… For coming to me last night.”  
  
Elrond smiled at the shy tone in Legolas’ voice. “Think nothing of it, penneth, I only did what I have done for all my children.”  
  
An almost-giddy grin lit up Legolas’ face, it had been many years since Legolas had first asked Elrond if it would be appropriate for him to name the Lord his father, but whenever Elrond uttered any sentence which named Legolas as one of his children, the elf’s heart danced happily in his chest. A father he may not have had very early on in life, but he gained one through his own means, and through the kindness of the Lord who reigned over Imladris.  
  
Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door. “My Lords, I have your morning meals!”  
  
Legolas gave Elrond a glance full of amusement.  
  
“Come in, mellon nin,” Elrond called.  
  
Glorfindel waltz into the room carrying a tray, a grin on his face that only got bigger once he spotted the positioning of Legolas and Elrond. Legolas smiled at the Balrog-slayer, and slowly lifted himself up from Elrond’s chest. The Lord put a supporting arm around his youngest son as the elf moved back towards the headboard. Glorfindel passed the tray to Elrond, who placed it on his lap. Legolas reached over and popped a blueberry in his mouth.  
  
“Hannon le, Glorfindel,” Legolas grinned once he’d swallowed.  
  
“Think nothing of it, penneth,” Glorfindel spoke as they ate. “The day is fading, My Lord Elrond, and there are things to do.”  
  
“Yes, yes, I am rising,” the Lord waved Glorfindel off. “I shall meet you in the council room, no doubt they’ll all be arriving soon.”  
  
“What I would not give to miss another of these meetings,” Glorfindel said as he walked from the room. “Bunch of whiny elves. ‘Oh, Lord Elrond, but that will simply not do!’ Please, as if you have any say.”  
  
Legolas choked on his fruit at Glorfindel’s re-enactment of a usual council meeting, and Elrond patted his back gently as his youngest laughed behind his hand.  
  
“Funny for you, I am the one that needs to go and listen to nonsense for the next few forsaken hours,” Elrond mumbled.  
  
“Come, ada, it is not so bad,” Legolas laughed, rising slowly from the bed, watching as Elrond hurriedly came around to meet him and give him some support.  
  
“What will you do today, while I am gone?” Elrond asked, helping his son over to his oak wardrobe.  
  
Legolas thought for a moment. “I believe I shall go and visit Erestor in the Library. Your personal ones, of course,” he smiled cheekily.  
  
“That is well, stay rested, I shall worry if not,” the Lord returned.  
  
Legolas pulled a loose, dark blue tunic and some grey leggings from his closet. With some help from Elrond, he managed to pull off his sleeping shirt without using his injured arm too much. For the few moments his torso was bare, Legolas could feel the sweeping gaze of Elrond’s eyes over his bandaged injuries and his old scars.  
  
“Do not worry so, ada, I am fine,” Legolas smiled as they manoeuvred him into his fresh tunic.  
  
Elrond frowned, but knew it was no use arguing the point with his son, and conceded himself to the task of helping the injured elf dress. Having been in many states seen by his father, Legolas did not blush once his sleeping leggings were off, but he did put the new ones on at a faster speed. Elrond checked over his ankle before the elf put some boots on, and concluded that as long as he was careful, and used his crutch, Legolas should be fine to walk around more today.  
  
“Come, I will walk with you, and come to find you for evening meal tonight. I have a foreboding feeling I will be in the council chamber for a few hours yet,” Elrond said, placing a steadying arm on Legolas’ injured one.  
  
The ex-Prince walked with the grace an injured elf should not possess as they journeyed to Elrond’s personal Library. They greeted some serving elves along the way, Elrond smiling as Legolas bid them all a good day. The house elves were fond of his fostered son. It wasn’t long until they reached their first destination, and Elrond bid his son goodbye with a chaste kiss to his cheek. Legolas carefully walked inside.  
  
The sight that met him was one that he’d never forgotten: tall, wooden bookshelves that towered over everything else in the room, filled with ancient books that had pages browning with age. There were many nooks and chairs in the room where the readers of these tombs could perch in peaceful silence. One particular spot was Legolas’ favourite; a window seat tucked away in the corner of the room, hidden by some of the many shelves. A wind chime hung from the window, singing gently against the light wind, and there were tall trees that were very… climbable.  
  
Legolas smiled as he saw Erestor round the corner towards him, long black hair trailing behind him as he moved gracefully in his grey robes.  
  
“Mellon nin, by the looks of you… Something soothing and light-hearted, I believe. A hard night, I think?” The Lord said passingly, walking towards a certain shelf and plucking a book from its depths. He held it out towards Legolas. “I think you’ll find this perfect to pass the time.”  
  
Legolas gave a brief glance towards the title, _‘The Creation of Imladris, an account by Elrond Eärendilion’_ , and grinned at Erestor’s expecting smile and raised brow. “’Tis perfect, mellon nin. Would you walk with me a moment? I fear my strength is not returning as I would like.”  
  
Erestor kindly put a supportive hand on Legolas’ shoulder as they walked, following him straight to the window seat the Wood Elf was known for seeking solitude upon. The Chief Councillor took Legolas’ crutch and lay it against the wall next to him as the elf lowered himself down onto the seat and relaxed against the wall, his back cushioned by the throw pillows. Erestor left a serene-looking Legolas to his book, with a promise to be back come midday meal.  
  
Legolas opened the first aged page and began reading, a small smile lodging itself onto his lips:  
  
_‘In the beginning, when I first travelled to these hidden hills deep in the cleft of the mountains, I had a vision of a sanctuary for elves, men, and all the creatures of Middle Earth alike…’_

* * *

  
As promised, Erestor went back to Legolas’ corner at midday, a tray of light food in his hands. He was not surprised to find the elf in the exact position he had left him in: still propped up against the cushions, the wind dancing through strands of his golden hair, and the same book lodged between his hands. When Legolas did not look up as he neared, he recalled the Prince’s habit of slipping into a dreamscape when reading. Erestor lay the back of his fingers lightly on Legolas’ cheek.  
  
“Come, dear Legolas, the outside world needs your attention,” Erestor said.  
  
Legolas blinked, his gaze turning to the Councillor’s. “Oh. Naethen, mellon nin. Ada is very detailed in his writings, it is hard not to become enthralled.” (I’m sorry, my friend.)  
  
Erestor waved him off with a smile, “No matter, dear one, here. You must eat. Elladan and Elrohir tell me your meals are not much?”  
  
“It has been a while since I have eaten much of anything, I’m afraid,” Legolas admitted, taking the tray.  
  
Erestor frowned. “It will be fine, penneth, your body will heal, but we shall start small.”  
  
Once Legolas was finished, Erestor took the tray away, a look of happiness on his face. Legolas had managed to eat most of the small meal; it was a start. The Wood Elf moved in the corner of his eye as he walked away, no doubt settling back down to his book.

* * *

  
Much later that day, in the midst of the evening, Elrond entered his Library with Erestor at this side. They conversed while walking to the nook where the both knew Legolas remained. As they neared, it became apparent that the elf had fallen asleep on the window seat, still lounged in the same position that Erestor had seen him take last. Elrond reached out and plucked the closed book from Legolas’ side with an affectionate look. He turned the book in his hands and raised a brow at Erestor before handing the aged tomb over to his Chief Councillor. Erestor clutched at the book while he stared at Legolas’ limp form, the young one’s brow was furrowed, and there were darkening circles beneath his eyes.  
  
“Has our young Prince not been sleeping well?” Erestor asked in concern, placing a worried hand on Legolas’ thigh.  
  
“His dreams are dark of late,” Elrond replied, casting a long glance towards the unnaturally pale face of his youngest.  
  
“I am glad he has returned to us my Lord,” Erestor confessed. “I never enjoy it when he leaves for that… place.”  
  
“Nor I, my friend,” Elrond replied, placing his own hand lightly on top of Erestor’s. “But he is safe now. The road of healing is long and winding, and there will be many setbacks for our dear Wood Elf. Speaking of which, I must wake him, though I would rather not, but alas, if he is to retrieve any of his former strength, he needs to eat properly.”  
  
With that, Elrond moved his hand to place it on Legolas’ cheek, all too soon this was becoming a normalcy in his day. Thankfully, he felt no heat from his youngest’s skin, and began to call to him as Erestor stood vigilant.  
  
“Awaken, dear penneth, it is time for you to eat again,” he spoke, his voice little more than a whisper.  
  
Legolas blinked himself into awareness rather quickly, having not realised that he’d drifted off to sleep after finishing his latest book. He sat up slowly, flashing Erestor a smile when he saw the older elf’s hand steady on his thigh, and a look of worry on his face.  
  
“Aduial, ada, Erestor. That time again?” Legolas questioned, looking slightly put-out by his sleep being disturbed. (Good evening.)  
  
Elrond laughed. “Indeed, penneth, come, the twins await your presence. And someone else as well,” he smiled.  
  
Legolas’ face expressed a moment of uneasiness, but Elrond quenched it with a reassuring glance. Erestor bid them farewell when they parted in the corridor, going to seek out Glorfindel for his paperwork. Elrond led Legolas to a small dining room within the family rooms of Imladris, a place for them all to sit together with a privacy that the dining hall does not offer. Elrond held the door open for Legolas as they reached it, and placed a balancing hand on his waist as they crossed the doorway, seeing the slight stumbles in his steps.  
  
The small room was light: pillars crafted from marble held up the high ceilings, and dark oak furnishings decorated the room. The fire was crackling to the side, heating the room from the early summer night’s chill. The table was set and a small feast of cheeses, warm bread, and fruits lay in the centre. But this was not what caught Legolas’ attention. Next to the twins, stood a slightly smaller elf. A maiden with long, dark hair, and bright grey eyes that now rolled at some joke the twins had no doubt told her. She looked at him as Elrond held him firmly across the floor, and an immediate smile lit up her fair face.  
  
“Legolas!” Arwen shouted in joy, racing to him.  
  
She stopped before him, just before what would have been her usual embrace, and instead, wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared, her eyes closed. Elrond kept a hand on the small of Legolas’ back, a welcome presence.  
  
“Muinthel nín, I have missed you so,” Legolas breathed. (My sister.)  
  
“I have missed you too, muindor, my heart was filled with much sorrow when you last departed, and to see you now… Oh, Legolas, it hurts me more to see you in this state,” Arwen said tearfully.  
  
Legolas lifted Arwen’s head with a nudge of his fingers. “Do not, I am well. Come, I can feel the wrathful stares of ada, bidding us to sit down. We shall talk later,” he smiled.  
  
Elrond shook his head at his son’s antics, following them to the table where he sat at the head. Legolas sat to his right, and Arwen to his, the twins sat on his left, facing their siblings. Legolas’ crutch was propped against his chair. A reminder that, despite the lift in atmosphere, not all was as well as it seemed. The twins started mindlessly chatting, Elladan taking the lead, talking about their day. Elrond complained about the council meeting and stuffy councillors that didn’t know when to be quiet. Arwen spoke of her time with their grandparents in Lothlórien. Elrond kept a watchful eye on Legolas’ food intake during the meal, noting with some satisfaction that, despite it being the third meal he’d eaten today, he was managing a good amount. Elrond smiled, happy in the knowledge that the small and light meals had begun to do their work. The Lord tuned back into his children’s conversation.  
  
“And what book did you partake of in ada’s Library today, muindor?” Arwen questioned, a knowing smile on her lips. Legolas’ love of books rivalled their father’s, and it was well-known in the family.  
  
Legolas laughed lightly. “Actually, it was one of ada’s. His account of the creation of Imladris. It made for some pleasant dreams once I’d finished it.”  
  
Elrond reached over and brushed some of Legolas stray hair back behind one of his pointed ears, a loving smile adorning his face. “I am glad you enjoyed it, ion nin.”  
  
The door burst open rather unexpectedly.  
  
“My Lord! This has just been passed on to me, I must insist you read it, it is a matter of urgency!” Glorfindel said as he ran in, Erestor hot at his heels.  
  
Elrond stood, taking the letter from his grasp and pouring over its contents with a deepening frown.  
  
_Lord Elrond of Imladris,  
  
I will be arriving in two days time. I am aware that the once Crowned Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Thranduilion, is currently residing at your home. He has been banished from the Mirkwood realm, as per my order as King, and a notice has already been sent to yours and all other elven lands that they are not to aid him. He is a traitor to the crown, you may either release him to me so that I may place him in the dungeons, or ask him to leave your realm.  
  
King Thranduil of Mirkwood  
  
_ Elrond crushed the letter in his grasp, his whole body shaking in fury. How _dare_ Thranduil think he could disturb the peace his son was finally getting?  
  
“Ada?” Came Legolas’ voice, making Elrond turn to face the woeful look that took away his son’s smile. “He’s coming here, isn’t he?”  
  
Elrond crossed the room back to Legolas, and knelt before his sagged frame, taking his face into his hands. “Do not fret, young one. He cannot harm you here.”  
  
“I am tired, ada,” Legolas whispered, his eyes closing. Elrond heard the words he didn’t utter. _I am tired of running, of hurting, of being hunted by him.  
  
_ “I have you, penneth, you are safe,” Elrond soothed, his anger calming at the sorrow radiating from his son. “Come, I believe you need to rest.”  
  
Elrond helped his youngest up, and led him back to his own rooms, Legolas looked confused for a moment before he relaxed entirely, letting his father undo the strings of his tunic to loosen it. The Lord mixed some athelas to fill the air while Legolas sat wearily on the bed. Elrond soon came to join him, moving under the blankets and pulling Legolas towards him. The elf lay heavily on Elrond’s shoulder, his breath coming out in a shaky sigh.  
  
“Estelion allen, ada,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut in sleep. (I trust in you.)  
  
“All will be well, penneth,” Elrond replied, carding a hand through Legolas’ hair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for the kind comments, and the Kudos~! Here is chapter 4, usual translations below: 
> 
> Adar/ada – Father/Dad  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Tinu nin – My (small) star  
> Penneth – Young one  
> Gwador – Sworn brother  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Ion nin – My son  
> Hannon le – Thank you  
> Sîdh – Peace
> 
> Please enjoy!

Two days passed all too soon, and Thranduil made his entry into Imladris with as much commotion as seemingly possible. Guards flanked his sides, and he swept across the courtyard with an arrogance that should not be possible from elf-kind. The King of Mirkwood cast his sight upon each of Elrond’s party that stood waiting in front of Imladris’ doors. On one side of Imladris’ Lord, stood a straight-faced Erestor, and a scowling Glorfindel. On his other side stood his children, who were tucked as closely to Legolas’ side as possible without it looking obvious. Arwen had a small frown adorning her face, and the twins had a fire in their eyes that almost rivalled their father’s. Almost. Legolas stood tall without his crutch, his head high, his blue eyes trained on Thranduil’s form.  
  
“Welcome, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, to my home. I trust your journey was well?” Elrond spoke with a false smile.  
  
Thranduil looked to Legolas and then returned his stare to Elrond. “The journey was as expected. Tell me, Lord Elrond, did you not receive my message?”  
  
Elrond’s jaw tightened. “I did,” he said, shortly.  
  
“Then why, Lord of Imladris,” Thranduil began, a growl in his voice. “Is the banished elf stood next to you?”  
  
Glorfindel growled back under his breath, his hand itching for his sword.  
  
“Legolas was banished only from the realm of Mirkwood, Thranduil, it is his right to be anywhere else in Arda that he wishes to be,” Elrond spoke calmly, an emotion completely opposite to how he felt. He could not feel any shift from Legolas, only the movement of the twins as they moved closer to him.  
  
“You dare protect him, Peredhel?” Thranduil bellowed.  
  
“I protect my son!” Elrond shouted, the fire of fatherhood coming forth.  
  
Thranduil laughed. “Your son?” he said, moving closer to Legolas. “This elf was bore of me. How can he be your son?”  
  
“You lost your right to call yourself his father when you banished him from your lands,” Elrond said, coming forward to block Thranduil’s path. He held his hand out to Erestor, who placed a piece of parchment in his hand. “This, gives me the right you do not have.”  
  
Thranduil took the form from Elrond and quickly read over it, his face twisting into a furious state by the time he’d looked back up. Shoving the form back at Erestor, but the careless motion of his hand was caught by Glorfindel, who intercepted the violently given form before passing it off to the Councillor with a much calmer hand.  
  
“You have no power here, Thranduil. This land is untouched by outside laws. Legolas is mine,” Elrond growled, eyes seeming to flash with a protective anger.  
  
Thranduil glared at Legolas, who stayed straight and still during the entire exchange. “You cower behind these half-elves?”  
  
Legolas stepped forward, into Thranduil’s space, and their gazes met. Light blue to dark. “I have never cowered before you. I only stand with my family.”  
  
“I have taught you many lessons over the years, boy, do you require another?” Thranduil threatened, grabbing the front of Legolas’ tunic and twisting it in his grip, harshly pulled the elf towards him. Legolas repressed a grimace of pain at the jolt of his body.  
  
“Try me, King of Mirkwood!” Legolas spat out, a defiant glint in his eyes as he stared the elf down.  
  
“Make another move, and the skies themselves will come down on you, Thranduil of Mirkwood!” Elrond threatened, furious that the King had dared touch his son. “Take your hand off of my son and leave our land!”  
  
Thranduil glanced at each of the fiery eyes of the elves before him, and conceded, shoving Legolas’ away with a growl. “Fine. But be warned, half-elf, that one will bring you nothing but trouble.”

Legolas stood tall, stance slightly widened, eyes trained on the King.  
  
“I will take my chances. Now leave,” Elrond said, a dark tone in his voice.  
  
The guards led Thranduil back to the gates where Imladris’ own guards made sure they all mounted their horses and left quietly. Elrond turned to his family to witness Glorfindel walk towards his youngest, who had not shifted from where he stood, and had not spoken since being in Thranduil’s grasp. The Balrog-slayer very lightly nudged Legolas’ uninjured foot.  
  
“Stand down, Legolas,” Glorfindel commanded. “They have gone.”  
  
The few words seemed to be enough to snap whatever hold Legolas’ warrior instincts had on him, his golden hair flying about him as he shook his head clear. Legolas gave Glorfindel a thankful nod before turning his attention to the arms of his siblings that had encased him from all sides.  
  
“Our brother,” Elladan started.  
  
“The warrior!” Elrohir finished, and quite quickly, the twins succumbed to their laughter.  
  
Legolas allowed himself a small, amused smile, but his heart was not in it. He tried his best to wave off Arwen’s worried stare with gaze of reassurance, but by the expression on her elegant face, it did not work. Once the twins let go, Legolas slumped into Elrond’s hold.  
  
“I have you, tinu nin,” he whispered. “Come, inside, all of you!” The Lord commanded out loud.  
  
The group of elves moved back inside, with Elrond keeping Legolas’ arm looped about his own, fearful that Thranduil may have reversed some of his healing with his roughness. The Lord noted that Legolas slight limp had returned. They returned to Elrond’s rooms, the twins and Arwen following, and he gestured for them all to sit while he prepared some tea and athelas. They ended up on the floor in front of the fire, Elrond’s birth children wrapped around his fostered one. Limbs carefully draped over him, and fingers touching his bare skin. Legolas could barely feel any of it. His body was shaken.  
  
“I believe he’s in a panic, ‘Dan,” Elrohir said, worriedly.  
  
Elladan moved closer to his youngest brother, tapping softly on his pale and blank face. Legolas eyes were unblinking, and the small amount of colour he had this morning had disappeared.  
  
“Las?” Elladan questioned, a frown etched on his lips.  
  
When Legolas didn’t reply, Arwen wrapped her arms around him.  
  
“Suil Annui, erio thûl lín i faer hen,” Arwen whispered, her elven light entwining with Legolas’. (Western Winds, may your breath lift this spirit. (A healing chant.))  
  
Elrond chose that moment to walk over with a tray, the scent of athelas filling the air from behind him. As the light from Arwen and Legolas faded, the Wood Elf’s eyes brightened, but did not contain any awareness, he flinched away from the touches of his brothers and sister. Legolas curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his legs and tucking his head into his chest.  
  
“Naethen, Naethen, adar, saes.” he whispered repeatedly. (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, father, please.)  
  
Elrond frowned at the apologies, seeing immediately that his son was still stuck in his own mind. The Lord handed off the tray of tea to Arwen, who gave her elder brothers a cup each, and grabbed one herself to warm her hands, the calming scent of the tea and athelas drifting around the family. The three siblings watched as their father ran his fingers through their brother’s hair, his every movement carefully thought out while he coaxed Legolas’ head up from its hiding place. Elrond hushed the broken apologies still falling from his son’s lips.  
  
“Sîdh, tithen las, all is well. Hush, memories cannot hurt you here,” he soothed, observing Legolas slowly untuck himself from his curl.  
  
Once the fear-filled elf had fully lifted his head, Elrond pressed the calming tea into his hands, watching as Legolas took comfort from its warmth. His breathing was uneven and shallow, reminding Elrond of the nights his youngest had spent in the Halls of Healing upon his arrival. That thought stayed heavy in his mind.  
  
“Deep breaths, if you can, young one, be mindful of your ribs,” Elrond said, remembering Thranduil grabbing his son. A small rage grew within him, but he quickly smothered it; Legolas needed him calm.  
  
Legolas did as Elrond said, taking a few careful breaths, tightening his hands around the mug held between his fingers. Eventually, he was able to take a small sip, and then a few more, feeling his body slacken its hold on its anxiety. Elrond’s hand had slipped down, the Lord laying the back of his fingers on Legolas’ flushed cheek. The twins both had a hand of their own resting on their brother’s arm, fingers touching, side by side. Arwen had her arm wrapped around Legolas’ free one, looping through the gap between his arm and torso, and her head was resting on his shoulder.  
  
It wasn’t long before the light-glow of Legolas’ skin returned, and a small smile with it. He took a moment to bask in the love that surrounded him from all sides before flicking his gaze to each family member. Arwen seemed content against his shoulder, and the twins’ stared at him with large, worried eyes. Finally, his eyes met the stormy-grey of Elrond’s, who only looked at him with love. Legolas took a long sip from the tea, his shoulders relaxing with each second. Elrond gave his knee a light squeeze.  
  
“Perhaps,” Elrond began, looking at the sleepy faces of his children. “We should stay here tonight.”  
  
A unanimous agreement swept through the four elflings of Elrond, and so, after giving Legolas one more glance of reassurance, Elrond rose to his feet, taking the empty cups from the siblings, and bidding them to lie down. It didn’t take long for them to basically flop down where they were; Legolas still somehow in the middle, Arwen unmoving from his shoulder, and both Elladan and Elrohir curled into each other, all four of their heads touching. Elrond came back with several large blankets, nesting them over his children and himself once he’d settled down between Legolas and Elrohir. Though the blankets were thin, the warmth from the hearth radiated through the room, and they fell asleep to the light whistle of the wind blowing through tree leaves outside the windows.  
  
Elrond woke once during the night, and sat up to a sight that warmed his heart. All four of his elflings practically intertwined together, limbs strewn across each other’s bodies to reach a different sibling. The Lord pulled their blankets back up over their shoulders before settling back down on the comfortable rug. The fire was still burning, either Glorfindel or Erestor must have stoked it while they slept. Elrond knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it, but while lying next to his children like this, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

* * *

  
When Elrond awoke in the morning, panic gripped his heart for a moment when he realised Legolas was no longer sleeping next to him.  
  
“Good morning, ada,” came his son’s joyous voice.  
  
Elrond looked up to see Legolas walking towards him with a cup of tea in his hand, the light from the sun casting a glow on his golden hair, and his blue eyes dancing in laughter. Elrond noted his son had already dressed and put his warrior braids back into his hair. Legolas carefully stepped over the twins: his brothers’ long legs cast across the floor, and in one swift` motion, handed Elrond the cup, and sat next to him, shuffling to his side, and resting one of his arms on his bent leg, resting his cheek on the black fabric of his leggings and gazing at Elrond. His father placed an arm around him and kissed his temple lightly.  
  
“Good morning to you, ion nin,” he smiled, taking a small sip of the tea, and studying Legolas’ form. “I see your limp is mostly gone again.”  
  
Legolas flexed his ankle, happily. “Indeed! I feel much better today, perhaps yesterday has not undone much of my healing. I may visit nana’s gardens.”  
  
Elrond knew that Legolas meant his wife, who had become a second mother to the elfling very early on, even before his own mother had been taken from him.  
  
“A fine idea, penneth,” Elrond said. “And by visit, you do not happen to mean that you might climb some trees this morning?”  
  
Legolas smiled sheepishly, “You know me too well, ada.”  
  
“Someone has to know your habits,” Elrond spoke, almost regally, eyes closed as he took another sip of tea. “You may, but let me check the state of your shoulder first. Your ribs should be strong enough to withstand some exercise today.”  
  
Elrond placed his empty teacup on the floor, and motioned for Legolas to move in front of him. The elf did so, and untied his already loose-fitting, grey tunic, slipping it carefully down his still-injured shoulder. Elrond peeled back the dressing, the wound was naught but a healing scar now, but too much use would render it useless for a few days again. The Lord replaced the dressing and pulled the material of Legolas’ tunic back up over it.  
  
Elrond hummed thoughtfully. “Just be careful. You are still healing, young one.”  
  
Legolas flashed him a grin over his shoulder. “But, of course, ada!” He chirped.  
  
The Wood Elf practically danced to his feet, smiling at his still-sleeping siblings, and walking towards the door with a wave to Elrond. He just caught the amused look the Lord gave him as he waltzed out the door. It didn’t take long for Legolas to reach the courtyard, and he immediately went through to Celebrían’s gardens. The long pathways flanked by beautiful flowers of varying colours spread over the ground’s beneath the family rooms of Imladris. If it was possible, Legolas relaxed even further as he walked past dahlias, marigolds, peonies, roses and lilies. The array of whites, yellows, oranges, pinks, purples, and reds almost forcing him to take a moment to stop in the centre of the garden. Eventually, he came to the tree he was looking for, the one that you could see into from Elrond’s balcony. Just in case someone came looking for him. Plus, it happened to be his favourite tree, it felt… safer, being this close to his father.  
  
Legolas rested a hand on the thick trunk of the tree and spoke to the aged being in his mind.  
  
_“Good morrow, my friend. May I climb you?”_ he asked, kindly.  
  
The tree responded with joy. _“My Prince! Welcome home! Of course you may, I will keep you in my branches for as long as you have need.”_  
  
Legolas thanked the tree as he moved to climb up, the tree moving some of the branches to help him. He soon made it a high enough distance to sit in the air, far from any troubles on the ground. Sitting back against the trunk, the elf closed his eyes and relaxed, breathing deeply.

A small, familiar chirp caught his attention, and he looked up to find Mori swooping down to him from the place where all of Imladris’ messenger birds were housed. He grinned, happily, and reached out his hand for the raven to land on.  
  
“Mori! Mellon nin, I owe you a great debt, as always. Perhaps some treats when I am healed enough to go searching for you? I’ll have to remember to thank Erestor for caring for you as well,” Legolas said.

Mori tweeted in reply, and lightly nipped at Legolas’ fingers. Trilling happily. Legolas stroked his dark feathers with two fingers, savouring the calm his old friend provided.

Soon, Mori’s body shifted in a familiar motion, and Legolas brushed out his hand in time with the wind. His messenger bird took flight in the air, and the Wood Elf watched as Mori’s dark wings batted against the blue sky.

Once Mori had disappeared from view, Legolas reached into his bag that he’d grabbed shortly after leaving Elrond’s rooms and pulled out a book about the History of Elrond’s family. His family. And started to read.

* * *

Elladan woke slowly, blinking rapidly in the strong rays of the mid-morning sun. Two of the four elven presences had moved away from his side, startled, he sat up quickly, narrowing missing Elrohir’s arm with his hand. He felt his father’s presence before he saw him, and almost gave himself whiplash turning his head towards him. Elrond gazed at his son with a smirk of a smile and one raised, arched brow, while still crushing herbs in a small, wooden bowl. Elladan gave his ada a sheepish look, and then continued scanning the room. Unable to see Legolas, and still sleep-addled, Elladan raised his own brow at Elrond, complete with a concerned expression. Elrond came over from where he was working at his desk and sat next to his first-born, pulling his sleepy form towards his chest.

“Ack!” Elladan spluttered in surprise. “Ada? What’s wrong?”

Elrond smiled against Elladan’s dark hair, brushing a hand down its length, and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Nothing, ion nin. All is well today.”

Elladan soon relaxed into his father’s embrace, feeling Elrohir and Arwen shift beside them.

“Ada, where is Legolas?” Elladan questioned. “I can sense him nearby but…”

Elrohir chose that moment to pull himself up off of the ground and lay back down on Elladan’s leg. Elrond reached over and began petting the younger twin’s hair, the same way he had for his brother not moments before.

“’El…? Wh’re’s ‘Las?” Elrohir mumbled, nuzzling into Elladan’s hip.

“Our dear Legolas is currently in the company of the trees of your mother’s gardens. I believe he was in the branches of the cherry tree beneath the window when I last looked out to check on him.” Elrond answered for his son.

“Mornin’ Ada…” Elrohir said, sleepily.

Elrond laughed, threading his fingers into Elrohir’s hair. “Good morning, my son.”

After a few minutes simply lying against Elrond’s chest, Elladan decided to properly rise so he could go find Legolas. Elrohir overheard his thoughts and drowsily rose from his brother’s leg.

“Time to get up already? Surely not, you two haven’t been up before noon in weeks,” Elrond jested.

“Ada!” Elladan cried, indignantly. “That’s just not true!”

Elrohir started laughing, and soon, the others joined him. This woke Arwen who sat up with an unimpressed look.

“Sorry, Arwen,” Elladan laughed.

Elrond stood gracefully and walked over to the open window, he looked down, eyes searching, and found a blond-haired elf still sat on a high branch, back against the cherry tree’s trunk, a book clasped between his hands. Elrond recognised the tomb as another of his books. One he’d written on the history of his family. He smiled as he watched his youngest elfling turn another page; it looked as if he was close to the end. Legolas looked up, not at all startled, and gave him a bright smile before going back to his book. Every hour or so, since Legolas had left in the early morning, Elrond had come to the window to check on him, receiving the same reaction every time.

“Your brother’s still reading, but I imagine he’ll be done by the time you three are ready.” Elrond commented, turning around to see Arwen walk back in wearing older clothes that she wore around the twins, and both Elladan and Elrohir finishing up the ties on their navy-blue tunics.

Elrond walked over to Arwen to give her a morning embrace.

“Good morning, my dear.”

“Morning, ada!” Arwen said, happily.

“We’re ready!” Elladan called, walking over with Elrohir on his trail.

All three bid their father a good day, and left in search of Legolas.

It didn’t take long for the three to find him, and as if he had seen them coming, he appeared from the centre of the tree, and began climbing back down towards them.

“Good morrow!” The Wood Elf chirped, as happy as the song birds singing in the surrounding trees.

“Good morrow to you, muindor! How early did you wake this day? You should still be resting,” Elladan scolded with a smile.

“’Twas not as early as I’d have liked, dear brother. Lately, my body seems to think it’s always on patrol, I am far too used to waking before the sun has even risen,” Legolas admitted with a frown.

“Had you not come from patrolling the forests before you returned to us?” Elrohir questioned.

Legolas nodded, “I had.”

“Something weighs heavily on you, muindor. Come, let us talk a while, if you’re willing?” Elrohir asked, a frown etched onto his lips.

“Perhaps… That is a good idea,” Legolas replied, turning back towards the cherry tree. “How long has it been since you’ve climbed?”

Elladan laughed, “Probably not as long as Arwen.”

“I resent that!” Arwen said, as Legolas began climbing the tree once more.

“Well, no time like the present. This is a vital skill,” Legolas said with a tone of mirth.

“Wood Elves,” Elladan said, shaking his head.

Elladan sent Arwen up after Legolas, preferring to watch over her in case she fell. Elrohir climbed speedily after his sister, and Elladan followed once all of his siblings were safely in the tree. Legolas was lounging in his original position against the tree trunk, with Arwen laying carefully against his chest. Elrohir had left a space on the opposite branch to Legolas for Elladan to sit, and once the eldest of them had settled himself in, the younger twin nestled against his side. It took a moment for Legolas to gather his thoughts, and then he spoke:

“Patrol in Mirkwood has always been treacherous, but lately, we have had more deaths and injuries that victories. Many of my squad have ended their weeks in the Healing Halls, but the elves of some of the others… Most are lucky to come back alive. It is not safe in Mirkwood anymore, the forests are filled with dark creatures that taint the once-green lands. The hills are void of life, nature is becoming unnatural.

“On our latest mission, we could scarcely find any trees willing to speak to us. We felt lost and alone. A large group of orcs had managed to corner us, and we had to flee with injured warriors. We spent the night in a cave,” Legolas shuddered, “hoping we’d be safe, but early into watch, I heard the tell-tale sound of spiders, and we had to move. By the end of the month, half of my group were exhausted, and the other half were all injured in some way. It was tiring, being out in the forest for such a length of time. But we had a new plan to follow. Thranduil seemed to think that if the patrols were out longer, they’d be able to slay more of the darkness. It is not so. There is too much of it. So many of our kind have… perished, due to this plan. New warriors are being trained every day, and being sent out far before they are ready. At least a third of my warriors were unseasoned. I have slept more while healing than during the entire month of patrol. There was no time. The King has gone mad. This is not the first plan like this he’s put into motion. I fear for Mirkwood. It seems its end might be nigh,” Legolas rubbed at his temple, feeling a dormant headache waking up.

Legolas felt a warm hand on his cheek, and looked down at Arwen. Her face held an expression of concern.

“I apologise, that was too much,” Legolas said, wearily.

“Not at all, ‘Las. You’re carrying far too much with you, no wonder you aren’t sleeping well,” Elladan reassured.

Legolas hummed, noncommittally, “I suppose you are right.”

Elrohir noticed Legolas fingertips delicately pressing into the skin of his temple, “Are you well, muindor?”

“Just a headache. Unfortunately, I get them often now,” Legolas replied with a self-deprecating smile.

Arwen made a noise of worry. “Perhaps ada has something?”

Legolas brushed his free hand through his sister’s hair. “Ah, but I do not wish to bother ada. He has already done so much.”

“But that is why ada is ada, muindor,” Elladan said with a grin.

“Later, then. I do not wish to interrupt our time together. I have missed you all,” Legolas said, pulling Arwen closer to his chest.

“I’m glad ada adopted you, Legolas. Now you never have to leave again,” Arwen whispered against him.

“I am glad too, muinthel nin,” the blue-eyed elf smiled. “Though I cannot promise to never leave, you have your own boarders that need patrolling. If the twins will have me, of course,” Legolas said, turning his head to gaze at his brothers.

Elladan grinned, “Of course! Someone needs to teach the new recruits to shoot properly! We know you’ve bested Glorfindel in Archery, dear brother. We have no shame in admitting you’ve bested us too. We’d be glad to have you.”

Elrohir nodded ecstatically, “Once your shoulder heals, we’ll go with you to the range, see what damage has been done…”

“That would be best,” Legolas replied, downcast.

Arwen tapped on his cheek. “Do not worry, ‘Las, all will be well. Ada said your injuries were healing perfectly well.”

“You are right, of course,” the Wood Elf said.

Elladan gave Legolas a once-over, and saw that his brow was slightly furrowed. A definite headache, no doubt. And his cheeks looked slightly flushed too. “Speaking of ada, shall we head back inside?” He asked, hoping to prevent any illnesses before they occurred.

Legolas nodded. “I’m sure there’s something we could help with. I believe he was mixing herbs this morning. There was a fair bit of paperwork too.”

“That settles it,” Elrohir said. “Let’s go!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more father/son fluff, new characters, and a somewhat tense council meeting that sheds some light on the inner workings of Mirkwood in this story. 
> 
> Your usual translations, mellyn nin:   
> Adar/ada – Father/Dad  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Tinu nin – My (small) star  
> Penneth – Young one  
> Gwador – Sworn brother  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Ion nin – My son  
> Hannon le – Thank you  
> Sîdh – Peace
> 
> Enjoy~

The small walk back into the Last Homely House was as relaxing as it could have been. Legolas relished in the gentle winds brushing past them, and the distant sound of Imladris’ rivers and streams running through the grounds. The twins chatted idly, teasing their sister, and Legolas both laughed and came to Arwen’s defence. Pranksters, he and his brothers may be, but that didn’t mean that he would leave their sister to fend off the two by herself. Besides, as Legolas had been known to join the twins on their hilarious missions, so had Arwen. She was no stranger to mischievous events.

These were memories that Legolas cherished. Times of laughter and joy that centred around Imladris and his family here. Scarce, these kinds of moments had been in Mirkwood. And they became fewer and fewer until they were naught. Legolas shook his head to rid himself of these darker thoughts, there was already enough weighing on his mind without the addition of this line of thinking.

The siblings entered Elrond’s rooms after a small knock, Elladan leading the way, and only entering after hearing a welcome from their father’s warm-toned voice. Despite the underlying note of stress, the comforting baritone wrapped around them all like a familiar blanket, and as they entered the room, all of them relaxed immediately.

“Ah, good afternoon, young ones, did you enjoy your time in the gardens?” Elrond questioned, facing away from his paperwork with a smile.

Elladan and Elrohir stepped over together, taking a portion of their father’s paperwork from his desk and dancing away again, towards the space before the fire where they had slept.

“It was peaceful, ada!” They called, with a teasing grin, putting the pile of parchment before them, and beckoning their siblings over with a raised brow each.

Arwen smiled softly at Elrond, before gliding over to join the twins on the plush floor. “Indeed, ada, it’s been a while since I’ve been up in the trees with Legolas, it was rather enjoyable.”

Elrond gave a short laugh. “I imagine so! And you, penneth?” Elrond enquired, looking towards Legolas. “Did you find some semblance of peace before my other ruffians came along?”

“Hmm, some, ada,” Legolas said, coming closer, a small smirk forming from his lips. “I also had a visit from Mori, I am pleased he arrived safely. Things have been so out of sorts these past days, I hadn’t thought to ask after him.”

Elrond smiled at his youngest as the elf stood before him. “He has been in Erestor’s capable hands since you sent him to me. Loyal as always, your raven.” Elrond seemed to study Legolas for a moment, taking in the pallor of his face, and the slight squint of his eyes, “Ci maer, Legolas?” (Are you well?)

“More so than in recent days, ada,” Legolas replied with a small smile.

Elrond raised his brow.

“’Tis a simple headache, ada, avaro naeth,” the Wood Elf said. (Don’t worry.)

“Ai, penneth. Simple or not, you do not have to suffer. Come, bear with me one moment. I have just the thing,” Elrond stated, taking a small package of crushed herbs from his draw.

Legolas sat with his siblings and glanced over some of the paperwork while Elrond busied himself around the room. He and the twins, and sometimes Arwen when she was home from Lothlórien, would help their father by sorting the paperwork into piles. “Urgent”, “Important”, and “Tedious” were the names of their usual three piles. When Elrond first heard this, he laughed. Joyful, their father was, despite his duties and workload.

Soon, the scent of athelas filled the air, and with it, ginger, and something new. Elrond walked over with a small cup of tea, and knelt in his long, silver robes, passing it to the Wood Elf. Legolas took the cup with a smile while Elrond brushed his long fingers through his loose blond hair. Legolas closed his eyes in bliss at the touch, and inhaled the scents of the tea. He opened his eyes with a curious expression.

“Two of these scents I know, but what is the third, ada?” He questioned.

“Scutellaria lateriflora, penneth, this combined with Athelas and Ginger Root makes for an effective remedy against headaches. Coincidentally, this is what I was mixing together this morning.”

Legolas took a small sip, smiling at the warmth that seeped through him. He felt Elrond place a gentle hand across his forehead, and opened his large, blue eyes to look up at his father. The Lord seemed relieved.

“No fever, at least,” Elrond commented, moving his hand to run his fingers down the length of Legolas’ warrior braids.

Legolas smiled. “I am well, ada, go back to your paperwork lest you be here signing parchment late into the night. We’ll do our part, as always. Or try to.”

Elladan, who had been reading over a document, looked up with a shocked expression. “Legolas! Have you no faith in your elder brothers?”

“I refuse to dignify that with an answer,” Legolas laughed.

Elrond shook his head in amusement and went back to his desk, picking up the next document to sign.

Legolas took another sip of his tea, placed the mug on the floor, and turned to the twins with an expectant expression. Elladan grumbled and handed over their pile of “tedious” documents. Legolas, having been brought up in court, and still being a Prince, banished or not, had a different definition of “tedious”. Arwen giggled beside them, leafing through her own pile of papers.

* * *

“Valar save me,” Elrond groaned.

All of his children looked up.

“What is it, ada?” Arwen asked.

“The council want to meet again tomorrow,” he replied, an almost-grumpy expression on his face.

“But, why?” Elladan enquired.

“Apparently, there’s been some unusual activity to the north. But it cannot be anything that has come over our borders. Vilya would have warned me,” Elrond said, glancing at the blue-stoned ring of Air adorning his finger.

Elrond seemed to contemplate some stray thought for a moment, before looking over to Legolas, who shared his uneasy expression; along with the rest of his children. His youngest seemed to be holding himself back from saying something, so he sent a small stroke of encouragement through the bond between them. The elf looked up, slightly startled, unused to the bond, having not shared something that deep with his birth father in many, many years.

“Ada, perhaps…” Legolas began, unsure. “Perhaps, I could accompany you? Any tree to the immediate north of Imladris, past the Great River, belongs to Mirkwood. And…”

“There is no better elf in all of Arda that knows each tree and their brethren,” Elladan finished, the smile of a proud brother on his face. “Though why you’d want to go and sit in on those boring council meetings is beyond my comprehension. I shall mourn the loss of your sanity, brother-mine,” Elladan continued, giving Legolas an imploring look to come to his senses.

A small patch of scarlet glazed the Wood Elf’s cheeks, not for the teasing, but for the praise.

Elrond hummed. “That is true. And directly on my own line of thinking. If you feel up to it, penneth, your presence would be greatly appreciated.”

“I’d be honoured, ada,” Legolas smiled.

Elrond clapped his hands together. “Then I believe it is time for bed, young ones.”

Elladan and Elrohir raised their brows at their father.

“You needn’t give me that look. It has been a long week. Off you go,” the Lord said, his own brow raised.

The twins left after lightly kissing their father on the cheek, Arwen followed suit, and trailed after them.

Legolas rose up from the floor a moment later, and walked over to his father. Elrond held out his arms, inviting his youngest into his embrace. Legolas gratefully stepped in, and rested against the Lord’s chest. Elrond wrapped his arms around the Wood Elf’s thin frame.

“Elei velui, tinu nin,” Elrond all but whispered. (Sweet dreams, my star.)

“Fuin vaer, ada,” Legolas said, leaning up slightly to place a kiss upon his father’s high cheek. (Goodnight, dad/daddy.)

The blond warrior stepped out of his father’s embrace and exited the room. As soon as he was away from the now-closed door, his expression turned sorrowful, mind remembering the retold events from earlier in the day. Suddenly, two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around him and steered him towards the opposite side of the corridor.

“’Ro? ‘Dan? What…” Legolas started, stumbling over his words.

“You are coming with us tonight, muindor,” Elladan stated.

Legolas’ expression softened as he was pulled into the twins’ room. Day clothes were exchanged for sleeping ones, and he was carefully positioned between his two elder brothers on their bed. Tomorrow seemed so close now, but as he lay between Elladan and Elrohir, he felt soothed, and drifted into a quiet sleep.

* * *

The morning’s golden light filtered through the glass windows of the twins’ room. Elrond walked in silently, and made his way over to his trio of sleeping sons. For a small amount of time, he simply took in their images: sunlight woven between two sides of twilight, peacefully asleep and unaware of the life around them. Legolas’ eyes were no longer fully closed, as was a way to tell when an Elf was not healed in body or mind, but his delicate eyelids stayed only slightly open; even unseeing, his body knew he was not ready for more hardships from the world.

As the Lord of Imladris drew even closer, he was drawn to the smaller details of his sons’ entanglement: Legolas’ hands gripped either by another hand belonging to one of the twins, or encased softly in one of their grasps. A fond smile found its way to Elrond’s face, and he lent over the bed, long black hair brushing the sheets. He reached out a hand and carefully brushed down both of his elder sons’ hair, before lingering on his youngest.

“So many hardships you have faced, tinu nin,” Elrond whispered. “I only wish I had been there for them all.”

Even in his dreams, Legolas moved into his touch, finding comfort from strong hands despite the ones that had hurt him before. The young Elf made a noise of contentment, and stretched out between his brothers. Half-open eyelids blinked sky-blue eyes into awareness, and the Elf smiled sleepily at his brothers that still remained away from the waking world, before settling his gaze on his father.

“Aur, ada,” the young Elf said, rising from the mattress. (Good day, dad/daddy.)

“Aur, ion nin,” Elrond replied, leaving a lingering hand on his son’s cheek. “How were your dreams?”

Legolas’ shining gaze met and held his father’s, and he smiled brightly in reassurance. “They were well, ada. I found much peace this past night.”

“That is welcome news, ion nin. I loathe to disturb your rest, but the council convenes soon,” Legolas’ father said, a look of regret gracing his face.

Legolas looked somewhat sheepish as he took in his father’s attire: a long, deep blue robe, fastened with simple silver catches across the waist of his torso. The blond elf carefully climbed over Elladan, slipping out from between his brothers with practised ease. He watched as the twins entwined themselves without his body between them, and quickly pulled up the fallen sheet to cover their shoulders. Elrohir made a noise of discontentment, free hand groping for a body that was no longer there. Legolas caught it and gave his fingers a light squeeze before placing Elrohir’s hand in Elladan’s.

“Hush, I shan’t be long. And I will need both of you to entertain me once I return. I may be able to attend a council meeting with some tact, but if they speak moronic words, I may only be able to bite my tongue for so long.”

Elrond let out a laugh from behind him, a smile on his face at the interaction between his birth sons and his adopted one.

“It simply amazes me that you three have such a close brotherly bond, I suppose it shouldn’t, after all these years,” the Lord said.

“It has been a long time,” Legolas replied, sighing happily.

Elrond gave his youngest a nudge towards the door. “Go, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Legolas departed with a smile, walking as swiftly as he could to his own rooms.

As Legolas changed in front of his mirrors, he took stock of his still-healing injuries. His ankle seemed to be in the best shape it’d been in days, and all of his small cuts had healed over. Pulling on some dark grey leggings and black lace boots, he took a moment to test out the range of motion of his shoulder, turning his body away from the mirror to look back at the damage. The wound was tightly closed, skin pink and still healing. His joint felt tight, and he felt a jolt of concern. He shook his head and pulled on a long-sleeved matte grey tunic. The hem came to his upper thighs at the front and dipped to mid-thigh at the back. He deftly fastened the black clips into place across his chest, and as he started on the last one, he saw his father behind him in the mirror. Elrond took both ends of the cord of rope from the corseted back of his tunic and tied them off easily. Legolas noted that the Lord now wore his circlet, a traditional silver piece, simple and elegant, that sat comfortably on his brow.

“Hannon le, ada,” Legolas grinned in the mirror.

“Glassen,” Elrond smiled, brushing his hand through Legolas’ neat hair (You’re welcome). “May I?” He asked, gesturing for Legolas to sit down in front of the mirror.

Legolas sat, one ankle hooked behind the other as he watched Elrond skilfully re-braid his hair with traditional warrior braids. Elrond walked away for a moment, turning to the desk with a closed wooden box on it, something Legolas hadn’t noticed before. He opened it, took something from inside and walked back to Legolas, who was once again standing. He stared at his father as the Lord approached him, a somewhat serious expression mixed with a gentle smile on his face.

Elrond held up a silver circlet with a blue-drop gem hanging from its front, above the stone lay two metal leaves etched into the detail of the crown. Legolas bowed his head, eyes closed as he felt his father carefully place the circlet over his head, it rested perfectly on his crown, the gem resting at the centre of his forehead.

“Welcome home, Legolas, Lord of Imladris.”

Legolas opened his eyes with a smile. The blue from the gem accentuating the blue of his eyes, both colours seeming to match and glow in harmony.

“Hannon le, ada,” the younger Lord replied.

“Are you ready to face the den of boring advisors?” Elrond questioned, a smirk on his elegant face.

“Ah, one moment, ada,” Legolas said, walking over to his weapons near his bedside.

Elrond watched as Legolas strapped a dagger to his waist, concealed beneath his tunic, and tucked a smaller knife into his boot. Each in an easy place to reach should they be threatened or attacked, and both locations chosen specifically not to put strain on his shoulder injury. Elrond could only approve.

“Come, they are probably waiting,” Elrond said.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Legolas called for the elf to enter. Glorfindel walked in, long golden hair tied back, and clothing concealing more weapons than Legolas could currently carry in his healing state. The balrog-slayer looked Legolas up and down, nodding in approval, his eyes lingering over the places where Legolas had concealed his weapons. His gaze then roamed up to the new circlet on Legolas’ brow and he nodded once more with a smirk.

“The council has assembled, my Lords.”

“Yes, yes, Glorfindel, we are coming,” Elrond replied, walking from the room, with Legolas following.

Legolas scowled at the warrior, and kicked at him as he walked past, catching his foot.

“You know I hate being addressed formally, Glorfindel, so why would you?”

Glorfindel’s smirk grew. “Because it is amusing to see the look on your face, penneth. Like an angry kitten.”

Legolas scowled deeper. “Wait until this angry kitten is healed.”

“Is that a challenge, my Lord?” Glorfindel asked, eyes lighting up in joy.

“Of course, my friend,” Legolas laughed, shouldering the other warrior as they walked. “As soon as ada allows it.”

“Mayhap, not before!” Glorfindel gasped in mock horror.

“Oh no, mellon nin, never before!” Legolas laughed, recalling the many times both of them had spared without being fully released from Elrond’s care.

“Though in all seriousness, penneth, how do your injuries fare?” Glorfindel asked, looking at Legolas with concern.

Legolas hummed. “They are healing well, though I am concerned at the tightness of my firing shoulder. It does not feel right.”

Glorfindel’s face scrunched up in thought. “Perhaps let Lord Elrond look at it later today? Sounds like you need to move it a bit more, mellon nin.”

“Perhaps that is well,” Legolas replied.

The small party soon came to the council doors, and Glorfindel opened them for Elrond and Legolas to go in first. Elrond swept across the marble floors with a high dignity, and Legolas followed close after him with the same grace he always had. They drew the eyes of all advisors and council people in the room from the moment they entered. Erestor bowed his head in greeting.

“Be seated,” Elrond commanded once he got to the table set up in the centre of the room.

All the elves waited for Elrond, Legolas, Glorfindel, and Erestor to sit before they sat down, themselves. A sign of respect to the Lords of Imladris; both new and old. Legolas sat directly to Elrond’s left on the round table, Erestor sat to his right, and Glorfindel, instead of taking his usual place next to Erestor, sat next to Legolas. The round table had always been used in Elrond’s court, so different to Thranduil’s, where it was always known that he was at the head of every discussion. No one dared out rule or speak over the King, after all.

Glorfindel threw Legolas a friendly smile edged with a warrior’s intent. Legolas smiled back, his own eyes sharp. Glorfindel would protect Legolas if he was disarmed during the meeting. Not all council meetings were friendly, and they both had experiences with council meeting gone sour.

“Firstly, I’d like to formally welcome Legolas back into our Council, there will be a gathering set at a later date to celebrate his new Lordship. A night of merriment to enjoy,” Elrond started, his voice quickly gaining command over the room.

All the elves present sent Legolas warm and welcoming smiles, those that had seen him in the days after he first arrived at Imladris quietly asked after his health.

“I am well, thank you,” the elf replied, politely. Warriors did not make a habit of announcing their states of health aloud.

Erestor spoke from his seat, turning to face Elrond with a serious expression. “And now onto the reason we had to call yet another Council meeting. There has been unusual activity across the border, as it is Mirkwood’s territory, Legolas volunteered to attend today to share his knowledge and hopefully shine some light. Saeldur, if you would?” Erestor asked, looking towards a dark brown-haired elf sitting by a map of Mirkwood and Imladris.

The green-eyed elf stood up and addressed the table. He was pale in complexion, but had the strong body of a warrior who fought with a longsword. His face was kind, if a little hardened by fighting the dark forces that plaque Middle Earth. He exchanged a look with Legolas and Glorfindel before speaking, for they had been on many quests together, and felled many foes.

“During our most recent patrol, we came across a several camps of Mirkwood Elves very close to Imladris’ borders across the Great River,” he pointed to several marked spots on the map to the north and north-west of Imladris. “It is rather unusual, as, to our knowledge, Mirkwood patrols usually leave the scouting around this area to the Imladris patrols, as the Great River is under Lord Elrond’s protection. All the elves we came across were well-armed, as if they were expecting to have a great battle upon their hands. Most seemed familiar to our patrol group, as well, we regonised several of them.”

Legolas stood, looking to Saeldur with an expression that was unfamiliar to his friend. “May I, mellon nin?” He asked, holding out his hand for the map.

Saeldur nodded and passed it to the Wood Elf with practiced ease. It wasn’t uncommon for Legolas to get involved in matters of tactics and maps, and he knew any light that the blond-haired elf could shed on the situation would be welcome by all.

The group watched as Legolas traced his hand over a several routes that were likely for the warriors of Mirkwood to have taken. He lightly fingered the crosses on the map, tapping momentarily, lost in thought. A frown made its way to his face when he traced one more route, that went from the Mirkwood palace, through the outside borders of Mirkwood, and around to the borders of Imladris.

“It is a search party,” Legolas said, a tone of confusion in his voice. “Though… Not one for someone who is lost. They are trying to confuse other patrols by taking the longest route. They already know where the being they’re looking for is. They are trying to find a way into Imladris that doesn’t notify Lord Elrond,” he looked up from the map. “They hunt me.”

Legolas sat down wearily, his fists clenching in on themselves.

"Why do they hunt you, my Lord? On what grounds would the King banish you?" An advisor questioned.

"Thranduil does not approve of unruly sons that question his insane plans. I have undermined him one too many times, it seems. And now, knowing that I have found sanctuary, he seeks to destroy that peace as well. He banished me from Mirkwood, believing I would not find another home, and that the other Elven Realms would turn against me at his word," Legolas replied. 

"But surely they do not... _Hunt_ you?" the same elf asked.

“It is common practice in Thranduil’s court that an Elf banished from Mirkwood may be taken prisoner and slain if found alone on Mirkwood’s grounds. There are few ways to stop this from occurring. The Elf must be in the company of other Lords or Ladies of another household, or hold a new Lordship for himself,” Legolas laughed lightly. “Obviously, they do not believe Lord Elrond to have thought ahead. But the Elves of Mirkwood are ruthless. If the King has given an order, they will follow it.”

“That is barbaric!” One of the councillors said in shock.

“That is Mirkwood. The darkness has tainted many there, the King included. But none have the power to overrule him, and so, you have the choice to accept your fate, die, or run. I suppose I was given a way out,” Legolas mused, eyes tight and blazing despite the smile on his face. The warriors in the room felt the Intent that leaked from Legolas’ core. An instinct to fight until death stops every movement.

“How is that any life for a creature of the Earth?” A maiden with light brown hair asked, sat regally, several seats away from Legolas.

“It is how Mirkwood has always been, Lindethiel. It is the darkest of the Elven Realms, and not only because of the taint,” Elrond replied, a frown at his lips. “We will stand with you, Legolas, what do you need?”

Legolas closed his eyes to think for a moment. “I need the routes for the Imladris patrols. I know most, but I would like a reminder. I’ll also need several training sessions with any warriors willing to stand with me. I will not ask you to risk your people, if they are willing, they will need to be able to counter Mirkwood’s dirty fighting.”

“They are your people too, ion nin,” Elrond said, placing a light hand over Legolas’ still clenched fist.

The Wood Elf relaxed very slightly and continued, looking to Erestor. “I will need any texts on the laws of banishment, prisoner reclaiming, and border invasion without invitation, mellon nin. I would prefer not to fight. Thranduil is likely to send Elves that were friends to me. If we can do this politically, that would be preferable. If not,” he turned to Glorfindel, “then I would teach your warriors how to take down even the captains of the Mirkwood patrols, considering they are currently down by one.”

“Meeting adjourned,” Elrond announced. “Be swift and vigilant, we do not know when they will come.”

Legolas left the room swiftly, back tense, shoulders rigid. To the room of advisors, his discomfort was not noticeable beyond his strangely quick exit, but to the warriors, they saw his fingers itching for his arrows. Glorfindel watched the young warrior turn the corner, before shooting Elrond a glance, and following at a distance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is well on the way to healing, and the plot develops. Watch out for lines that may point to a backstory, there will be prequels once this is completed. 
> 
> Your usual translations, as always, mellyn:   
> Adar/ada – Father/Dad  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Tinu nin – My (small) star  
> Penneth – Young one  
> Gwador – Sworn brother  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Ion nin – My son  
> Hannon le – Thank you  
> Sîdh – Peace
> 
> Please enjoy :)

Legolas entered his rooms, and taking a steadying breath, removed his circlet, and placed it back into its box to keep it safe. His expression was tense as he grabbed both his bow and quiver of arrows, throwing the latter over his shoulder, before leaving the room. He was focused in his task, and so, took the shortest path through the house that led him to Celebrían’s gardens. With more care than he thought himself capable of in his current mind-set, he moved through his second mother’s gardens, until he reached the small archery range Elrond had built for him long ago.

He nocked his first arrow, wincing as the stretch of his positioning pulled at his shoulder. It has been too long since he’d held his bow, he’d missed the feel of the wood and string against his fingers, the shaft of the arrow and the feathers brushing his skin. The elf took a breath, steadied himself, took aim, and released the arrow from his bow. It missed the centre of the target. Legolas’s mouth fell at the corners into a frown, and his gaze hardened. He nocked another arrow, and repeated the process. And again. Each arrow grew closer to the centre.

As he nocked another of his arrows, Legolas felt a pull at his shoulder. As the arrow flew from his bow, he knew he’d missed before the arrow hit, the shot was wrong; unsteady. He dropped his right arm, passing his bow over and grasping at his shoulder with his now-free hand. The archer took a few deep breaths to combat the frustration and pain he was feeling. After he’d recomposed himself, Legolas retook his stance, and fired off another two arrows.

“Glorfindel,” Legolas said evenly, voice echoing quietly across the clearing. “If you’re going to watch over me, you may as well come closer. Bring the twins with you. Ada will have all of our heads if I manage to reinjure myself.” He nocked another arrow, aimed, and let it fly. Missed.

Glorfindel smirked at Legolas’ words, knowing that the elf must have sensed him from the moment they’d left the meeting. The Balrog-slayer had grabbed the twins as he passed them, filling them in along the way. They’d both been watching Legolas closely in the few minutes that had passed, and had been cautiously close to stepping in when their little brother had stopped to rest his arm. They all came forward, and shared a look; in that moment, they decided the different ways they would overlook Legolas’ shooting. Glorfindel as a Captain, Elladan as a Warrior, and Elrohir as a Healer. This way, they’d be able to check over all aspects of the injured elf’s technique, and Elrohir would be able to call “time” before Legolas’ forty-arrow quiver was emptied if needed. Glorfindel stood to the back of Legolas, looking over his stance and form, Elladan took to the east of his brother, keeping a close eye on Legolas’ facial expressions, and the release of each arrow from his bow, and Elrohir stood to the north-east, focusing on every movement of his shoulder, but still letting his gaze flick to his little brother’s face every few moments.

After a couple more shots, Legolas finally hit the centre of the target. For a moment, his eyes lit up, despite his facial expression staying neutral and fixated. A couple more arrows hit the centre, before he started running out of space in the small circle that made the bull’s eye of the target board. The next arrow split down his first central one with a sound akin to something singing in a high-pitched tone. The next did the same. And the next. Glorfindel walked off to the side.

“Clear,” the Balrog-slayer said.

Legolas kept shooting. Three more arrows shot, three more destroyed. And again. Elladan walked to join Glorfindel.

“Eight: miss, twelve: hit. Clear.”

Elrohir had kept his eyes sharp throughout the entire session. He stood with one arm across his chest, holding the other up, his hand brushing against his chin in thought. He listened to each singing arrow, feeling pride bubble up in his chest at the skill of his younger brother, who’d grown so quickly from the small elf they’d once took to the archery range. Six more arrows, six more destroyed. Eight to Eighteen. Elrohir could see the lines of strain appearing in Legolas’ face. His muscles were tense now, too tense. He was hurting. He watched as his brother nocked two arrows into his bow, and fired, they flew true, hitting the small spaces between the three in the bull’s eye of the board. Effectively creating a simple arrow shape in the centre. Elrohir startled. He wasn’t expecting a shot that advanced at this stage of Legolas’ healing. He could see the strain appearing on the Wood Elf’s face now.

“Time,” Elrohir said, coming over to his younger brother at the exact same time as Elladan.

Elrohir quickly passed off Legolas’ equipment to Elladan, placing one hand on their younger brother’s somewhat flushed cheek for comfort. He was concerned to feel a very slight heat coming from his skin. Legolas gazed at his brother with relaxed but exhausted blue eyes. Very different to the angry, frustrated orbs he’d looked into earlier. The black-haired elf placed both of his hands on Legolas’ shoulder, feeling around the muscle, and lightly probing the area around the site of his wound over his tunic.

“I think you may have pushed it a bit, muindor,” Elrohir said, with an expression of concern. “Come, let us get back to ada. Slowly, though. There is no need to rush, you’re fine.”

“Glorfindel filled us in on the meeting, tithen las, why don’t you tell us what got you so riled up?” Elladan said, shouldering Legolas’ equipment.

The Wood Elf sighed. “Thranduil… I… This entire situation is because of me. Perhaps, it would be best to just…”

“ _Just_ what, tithen muindor?” Elladan asked with a serious expression. (Little brother.)

“Give me over,” Legolas replied, shaking his head dejectedly.

The twins stopped in sync, and came round to face the younger elf.

“Legolas, ada would never let that happen,” Elladan started.

“Everything will be alright, Thranduil won’t know what hit him,” Elrohir continued.

“Why did you come out here, tithen las? To begin with?” Glorfindel interjected.

Legolas glanced down for a second. “I could wait no longer, archery calms me down, and I knew my skills would be… lacking, since I have been recently injured.”

“And by that you mean, some son of an orc in Mirkwood shot you in the back like a coward, and if he ever runs into us…” Elladan started, a sweet smile on his face.

“We’ll happily teach him a lesson,” Elrohir finished with a smirk.

“Also, _lacking_? Legolas, honestly, I do not think you know the definition of the word. Even our seasoned warriors can’t hit a target that perfectly when fully healthy!” Elladan exclaimed.

“But even so…” Legolas began.

“No, you are fine, tithen las. Just as the twins said. Even injured, you put my best warriors to shame. Perhaps they could do with another lesson from you!” Glorfindel laughed.

“Oh Valar, Glorfindel, do you not remember the last time?” Elrohir cried, a look of mock-horror on his face.

“I have never seen so many elves spread over the courtyard on their backs!” Elladan jested.

Legolas’ cheeks glowed with a small blush. “’Twas not all that bad.”

“ _Bad_? Ai, Legolas, I don’t believe you know how harshly you teach!” Elladan laughed.

“But their skills did improve,” Elrohir pointed out.

“Aye, that they did!” Elladan said.

Legolas smiled at their teasing, but startled slightly when he felt Elrohir’s hand on his face again.

“There, that is better,” his brother smiled, brushing his knuckles over Legolas’ skin before dropping his hand. “But come, let us get back to ada. Before he sends out a search party, preferably.”

“You know he will,” Elladan chimed in.

Their Wood Elf of a brother laughed, his fair hand coming up to cover his mouth, but the twins could see the light tremble of the limb. He’d used his shoulder too much.

“Yes, and whose fault was it that the last search party was sent out? It certainly wasn’t mine,” Legolas replied, giving a sly look to the twins.

“We resent that!” they cried, but smiled all the same.

Glorfindel coughed, and they all started moving back towards the house. As they neared the steps to the entrance, they were all unsurprised to find Elrond pacing in front of them. The Lord’s robes billowing out behind him every time he turned to retrace his steps. His arms were in a very similar position to Elrohir’s earlier one, but his fist was curled up at his lips, and his brow was furrowed. He looked worried.

“Ada, we have him,” Elladan called.

Elrond’s head snapped up, as if he’d been in deep thought and hadn’t heard or sensed their approach. He quickly gazed over Legolas, before hastily walking over to him, an uneasy expression still on his face. The lord softly placed his hands over his youngest’s cheeks, his thumbs rubbing at Legolas’ light skin. Legolas closed his eyes at the touch, feeling the calm that Elrond was sending him wash over his mind.

“What were you thinking?” Elrond said quietly. “What upset you so?”

Legolas opened his eyes again, his wide, blue irises starting up at Elrond’s own dark eyes.

“I am sorry, ada, I…” he trailed off, and took a deep breath. “Needed a moment.”

Elrond touched their foreheads together, breathing a sigh of relief and understanding, and brushing his fingers through Legolas’ golden hair. His own eyes closed for a moment, and he sent another brush of calmness over all of his boys’ cores. He could sense Elladan and Elrohir relax, feel the twins let go of their worry and loosen their tight muscles. Elrohir lay his head on Elladan’s shoulder, watching as their father calmed their younger brother. Elladan rested his own head on top of Elrohir’s, nuzzling his brother’s crown in comfort.

This bond between their family was something that resided between many elves. Usually relatives, and very close friends. Their father was especially good at utilising the bond to ensure the safety and wellbeing of all of his children, and occasionally, he used it to sort out Glorfindel and Erestor’s locations, and calm them if the need arose. Both sides of the bond had to be reciprocated, which for family members is a natural step. For close friends, the bond of friendship between two elves has to be at such a level that their minds recognise each other as something akin to family.

For the bond between Legolas and Elrond, it had started forming practically from the moment the Lord met the young Prince. And as Legolas’ spirit came to realise that Elrond had nothing but good things in mind for the young elf, the blue-eyed elfling naturally opened up his mind to his new protector. It was evident early on that the bond that should have existed between Legolas and Thranduil was closed. And as the years passed, their bond became as well-established as Elrond’s bond with his own birthed children. The Lord then easily noticed that the connection between Legolas and all of his children was strong, and unwavering, one of true siblings, roots be damned.

And so, to see their brother and father now, forehead bowed to forehead, eyes closed, and their father’s hands threaded through their brother’s hair, nothing seemed strange. A normal occurrence, and a soothing technique their father had used on all of them many times before. They knew what was coming next, and so, Glorfindel stood guard, for once entwined in each other’s minds, the two elves would be defenceless; to a certain degree, at least.

Elrond let his mind wander to Legolas’, asking silent permission to be allowed into his son’s thoughts. Legolas barely let a heartbeat pass before opening the door to his mind. Elrond calmly searched through his son’s thoughts, taking a considerable amount of time to understand the reasoning behind his actions; reckless as they were. For Legolas, speaking his troubles aloud was still difficult. It would have been better had the blond warrior been able to spend more time with his true family, but alas, he was a Prince, and he had his duties. Thankfully, these were no longer things he needed to worry about.

Elrond pulled back from Legolas’ mind carefully, closing the door behind him, and opening his eyes back in the living world. He pulled Legolas towards him, holding his son to his chest.

“I understand, I do not agree, but I understand,” the Lord whispered. Reluctantly pulling back, he continued: “We can continue this upstairs, there is faint heat coming from your shoulder, I believe you have overused it, ion nin.”

Legolas looked sheepish, but followed his father up the steps back into the safety of the house. The rest of their small party trailed after them dutifully, very aware that Elrond would want to hear their assessments.

Once they were inside Legolas’ room, Elrond lightly nudged Legolas towards the bed. Watching as his twin sons moved Legolas’ weapons back to their resting place.

“Elrohir, help your brother with his tunic, I shall return in a moment,” the Lord said as he glided from the room.

Legolas sat heavily on the bed, turning to the side as Elrohir came up behind him to untie the back of his tunic. His brother’s long fingers skilfully untied the knot that their father had tied only hours before. He shakily reached up to undo the catches on the front, but the tremble of his hand was too great, he stared at the limb as if it had betrayed him. Elladan let out a sarcastic long-suffering sigh, and moved forward to unclip the clasps. Legolas shot them both a grateful look. He slid out of the garment with ease, revealing his toned and somewhat scarred torso, and the knife hid in his clothing. With an amused look, Glorfindel took it for him, and then held out his hand. Legolas smirked and fetched the other blade from where it rested against his calf, taking his shoes off after passing it over.

“Always prepared, aren’t you, my friend?” The Balrog-slayer commented, placing the blades within Legolas’ reach.

“Always,” Legolas replied, giving Glorfindel an appreciative glance.

The Wood Elf suddenly winced, feeling a hand on his shoulder. Elrohir had pulled the dressing away.

“Naethen, tithen muindor,” the younger twin said distractedly. “Your shoulder is quite red.” (I’m sorry, little brother.)

As if he’d been summoned, Elrond walked back in, a bowl in one hand, and fresh bandages in the other.

“Lie down, penneth,” Elrond commanded softly.

Legolas did as he was bid, lying on his stomach, one hand beneath his head, and the other bend at the elbow, outstretched for whomever wanted it. Elladan grasped at his fingers, still feeling the tremble of overuse.

“You are still shaking, tithen muindor,” Elladan murmured with an expression of guilt. “Perhaps we should have stopped you sooner.”

Legolas stared at his eldest brother. “But would I have? Elladan, you know me, if you had not been there, I’d have stayed until nightfall. Do not blame yourself so.”

Elrohir agreed by placing a hand upon Elladan’s arm, and swiftly moving to lightly bump their heads together before resting on his shoulder again.

Elrond perched on the bed, quickly and efficiently examining the flushed skin of Legolas’ shoulder. The Lord picked up the bowl he’d brought with him before dipping his fingers into the mix of ground athelas and water. A paste made from the plant used in practically all Elven healing arts. His eyes narrowed at the pink line that marred his son’s shoulder; one of the few remnants of his escape from Mirkwood. He gently rubbed the paste onto Legolas’ skin, working to cover the area to avoid any unnecessary pain that may accompany the elf’s actions.

“I believe you halted your brother’s activities just in time, my dear twins. There is no more serious damage. It is just strained. Considering the original injury and the placement of the wound, it’s actually healing quite well,” he looked to Legolas. “Though, I would have preferred you to start your rehabilitation with lighter exercise than _that_ , young one.”

“Sorry, ada,” Legolas said with a sad smile.

Elrond sighed. “’Tis no matter. As I said, I understand why you became upset, but I do not agree with any of the solutions to the problem that involved you giving yourself over to that… To Thranduil.”

“Ooooh… Ada almost cursed,” Elladan whispered to his twin.

“Yes, yes, I saw the restraint. That was commendable,” Elrohir replied with a grin.

“Furthermore, the King can simply _try_ to invade. I will make him wish he’d never stepped foot on our land,” Elrond continued, a look of malice crossing his face.

The twins mock-shivered, and then grinned again. Legolas smiled at their antics.

“And so, young one, do not fret,” their father said, lightly brushing the back of his free hand against Legolas’ face. “He cannot get you here, I have always kept you safe, have I not?”

Legolas nodded, throat choked up. “You have, ada.”

“Well, then,” Elrond smiled. “Now, I will draw up a small plan for you so you can start training again. Going back to your archery is a splendid idea, but ease up somewhat. As for you three,” he said, looking to the other elves in the room. “Report."

“The young one’s stance is strong, if a little more guarded than usual, he took consideration for his recent injuries into account; keeping most of his weight on his right leg, while still remaining almost perfectly balanced,” Glorfindel remarked, and then shifted his gaze over to Legolas. “Though I am concerned over your newly healed bones, I would like to have you out in the grounds soon, to ensure that you aren’t over-guarding. Your movements have always been so fluid, penneth, like a dance more than a fight. I hope we can draw that back out of you.”

Legolas smiled at his friend. “I await the day I can fight beside you again, mellon nin.”

“And I, you, my friend,” Glorfindel laughed.

“Elladan?” Elrond said, motioning for his eldest to start as he started wrapping a think bandage around Legolas’ shoulder.

“Yes, ada. I was impressed, very much so. Despite any and all injury, our young elfling kept his form strong, he held out and persisted, even while he wasn’t hitting the centre of the target. Though that wasn’t for long, only eight of his shots were away from the centre. There was some strain after a while though, I believe it may be a while longer before ‘Las has all of his skill back. But for a non-moving target… a few more days, at most, before I am happy to let him shoot as much as he wants. Moving targets and manoeuvres? A completely different stand point that we need to assess.”

Elladan looked to Elrohir, who took a moment to order his thoughts before he finished up the report. “I am concerned that we might push too much, especially with the looming situation. Out of the twenty-eight shots I allowed ‘Las to fire, eight were misses, three were clean – to the centre of the target, fifteen were arrow-splitters, and the last two were a double bull’s eye,” his eyes flicked to Legolas. “Which I still think you shouldn’t have fired. You have to put enough power behind a shot to split your own arrow, be more careful,” Elrohir frowned and sought out his father’s gaze again. “I could tell when ‘Las was tiring, but so could he. The best thing would be for him to start light, and then we’ll move on. Archery before physical contact, but blades before that. I am curious to see our brother move as swiftly as the Great River again, are you not, ‘Dan?” Elrohir smiled at his twin.

“Indeed, ‘Ro,” Elladan grinned.

Elrond had finished tying the bandage, and had sat through the entire commentary absently stroking Legolas’ back or running his fingers through his son’s soft hair. He had a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Perhaps you should take a day to rest, ion nin,” Elrond said to his youngest.

“I have taken many days, ada, but it was a fair assessment. I was planning to spend some time with Erestor tomorrow, to gather my thoughts. No doubt he has already found the texts I seek. Though Elrohir was correct, I should not have taken that last shot,” Legolas gave a pained smiled. “But I dislike loosing, even to myself.”

“Our warriors will be very glad to see you in the training grounds again, I think. Rest now, you’ve had a stressful day.”

Elrond kept up his ministrations, fingers lightly circling the fair skin between his son’s shoulder blades. He glanced at Glorfindel who stood vigilant by the door. Ever protective, even in his home. The twins were still sat upon the floor, Elladan’s hand encasing Legolas’, and Elrohir watching as their younger brother relaxed under their father’s touch, his eyelids dropping only slightly, and gaze becoming lost from the world.

“I am glad Legolas made it back to us, ada,” Elrohir spoke, unexpectedly. “I miss him much when he isn’t here.”

Elladan reached up with his unoccupied hand to place it on Elrohir’s crown, making a noise of agreement in his throat.

“I too, my sons. But it is well now, and Thranduil will not have him again, not while I am here,” Elrond said, his tone laced with a deep strength.

“We should contact Lothlórien, ada. They would want to know,” Elladan said.

“I shall, ion nin, in the morning,” Elrond said, his expression troubled.

“Come, my young Lords, time to retire. It has been an eventful day,” Glorfindel spoke from the door.

The twins rose from the floor practically at the same time, and Elladan gently gripped Legolas’ hand a fraction tighter.

“Losto vae, tithen las,” the eldest brother whispered. (Sleep well, little leaf.)

Elrohir bent to place a quick kiss upon their brother’s brow, and then did the same to their father. Elladan followed suit.

“Losto vae, young ones,” Elrond said in parting.

Elrond watched them go before turning to his youngest. He pulled the blanket up over his son’s bare skin, and placed his own departing kiss upon Legolas’ golden hair.

“Elei velui, tinu nin, losto vae,” he whispered, running his fingers through the soft locks a final time. (Sweet dreams, my star, sleep well.)

Elrond swept from the room with no sound, closing the door with the smallest _click_ possible, and leaving the young warrior to sleep.

Back in the room, a soft smile graced Legolas’ face, and he slept on, comforted by his safe surroundings.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas starts making some leeway on his research, and the training arena is put to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for this chapter, if they haven't already been engraved into your mind:  
> Tithen las – Little leaf  
> Muindor - Brother  
> Hannon le - Thank you
> 
> All Elven politics and laws in this chapter are entirely fiction, my own work rather than Tolkien's. I'm more than sure there are no books of his on Elven laws of Banishment, Citizenship, and Adoption, so... Well, it was interesting to write, at least. 
> 
> Enjoy, mellyn nin <3

Legolas woke startled, with the moon still high in the night’s sky. He moved quietly out of his bed, stifling a wince when his shoulder protested his movements. Looking out his windows, he sighed, making a split-second decision and walking over to his dresser to change. Simple clothing, darker colours, good for training and moving around unseen. He donned his boots, slipping his usual dagger into a strap inside his right.  
  
Exiting his room, he moved down the corridor, closer to Elrond’s chambers. He stopped outside the family library, listening. When it was clear no one was inside, he opened the door quietly, and stepped inside.  
  
Erestor had laid out all the texts he asked for on one of the desks near the window, a somewhat sizable pile towered above the lantern waiting on the table’s surface. Legolas lit the candle inside with the flint that was always kept in the draws of each desk, and lightly dropped into the waiting chair, feeling the cushion placed at the back to keep his shoulder off of the usually hard surface. Legolas picked up the first text off of the pile, and glanced at its title: _Elven Politics; Laws on Banishment and Reclaiming._ Legolas gripped the book tightly, taking a deep breath and flipping it open.  
  
He poured over every page, the stream of light from the moon moving across the desk as time dripped by. Leaving the book open on a relevant chapter: _Banished Elves and Citizenship changes_ , he grabbed the next book off of the pile, recognising it, and flipping it open to a passage nearer the end of the tomb: _Adoption rights and Citizenship_.  
  
It was all too easy to connect the two pieces of text together, and not for the first time, Legolas thanked Elven Archivists everywhere, and their incessant need to write everything down. He glanced over at the first book and re-read a single section:  
  
_“In the Laws of Elven Rights, any Elf can change Citizenship from one Realm to another by gaining the relevant documents and attaining the signatures of the Lords of that Realm. These documents, which are plentiful, and can be adapted for different situations; such as asylum, adoption, estrangement etc. are recognised throughout all of Arda, and their importance of being upheld by all lands were agreed upon centuries ago. Since their instatement, during each council meeting of the lands, they have remained an important part of life, and are one of the only motions during council meetings that are passed through without any opposition.  
  
Banishment is no objection to this law, if a Realm is willing to take in a banished Elf, they may do so at their own discretion, under any circumstances. Depending on the reason for banishment, the Elf in question may or may not receive punishment despite their new holdings, but their fate lies in the hands of the Lords and Ladies of their new home, not their previous. This matter is not except to any party, no matter their standing in society.”  
  
_ Legolas quickly gazed at the other section of the second book, and read quickly:  
  
_“Once an Elf is adopted into a new family, and their documents have been signed by the Lords and Ladies of the house, their Citizenship is automatically changed over to their new home’s, and requires no appraisal by the other lands of Arda. At this point, all usual rules of Citizenship apply.  
  
If the adopting family is of high standing – a Lord/Lady, King/Queen or any in their immediate families, the document requires the signatures of one other Elven Realm to ensure fairness and protection laws are properly seen to.  
  
It should be noted, that if an Elf gains a new Lordship, only the Lords of their land can hand out any sentences or punishments. Their previous holdings’ Lords etc no longer have any right to the Elf.”  
  
_ The warrior grinned, moving those two books to the side. Erestor, as always, had come through for him wonderfully. He glanced over the rest of the stack of books: journals of war, old law books that outlined Realm Borders, invasion tactics and laws, and there, neatly stacked inside a tomb of Tactics that Legolas recalled reading many times, the patrol maps for Imladris, updated and signed. Legolas unfolded the top one, a note tucked in its depths.  
  
_“Tithen las,  
  
Copies of our most recent patrol maps, as requested. Not much has changed since you were here last, I’m sure you’ll recognise all of the routes. I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I hope these will help you find it.  
  
If you find yourself in need of a willing ear, I’ll be patrolling around the grounds until mid-morning, at which time, our usual training sessions will commence. You know how to find me.  
  
Rest, young one.  
  
Glorfindel.”  
  
_ Legolas smiled, spreading the maps over the table. He pulled open the desk’s draw, withdrawing a stick of coal. Easier and faster to write with than ink. The blond elf easily found the routes he was looking for, all paths in and out of Imladris, and more specifically, the one to the north, that circled the borders of Mirkwood, and eventually led to the side-walls of Imladris. He marked routes along this one that warriors would be able to split off and move to another location.  
  
“I know you, I have led your armies...” Legolas murmured. “Where would you command them?”  
  
He circled spots where archers would be stationed, marked the page for the likely positions of warriors, and noted each accessible route that the party or parties could take from this winding road.  
  
Leaning back, Legolas sighed. He looked behind him, out of the window, and saw the crescent moon low in the sky, well into its descent past the stars. The sky was lighter on the other side, directly across from the night’s master. He stretched, rolling his right shoulder back to ward off the stiffness that came with being curved over a desk for too long a period of time. The elf grabbed a sheet of blank parchment from the desk, along with ink and a quill, and penned a quick note:  
  
_“Erestor,_  
  
_I’ll return later today, would you ensure these aren’t disturbed, my friend?_  
  
_Hannon le,_  
 _Legolas.”_  
  
Legolas stood, walked from the library, and down through to the main doors of the Last Homely House. He made his way left, down the stone pathway there, and over to the training area. A large area, divided between grass and sand. No one was around, the entire area void of any life. Legolas glanced up to the still-descending moon, and hummed to himself. The day had yet to rise, still a couple hours away. He walked over to a shed that housed weapons and equipment, both training and otherwise.  
  
The elf grabbed two blunt training knives from the wall, giving one a twirl in his left hand, weighing the balance against what he was used to. Nodding once, he moved out of the room, towards the sanded fighting arena of the training area. He threw off his outer tunic, the dark grey material falling to the floor, and leaving him in a tighter, black shirt. He dug the blades of the knives into the sand a few feet away, leaving his shirt with them on the perimeter of the arena.  
  
Legolas took in a deep breath, moving his body into some easy stretches, paying particular attention to the muscles and areas that had recently healed, and his tender shoulder. He stretched his arms up, before falling into a couch, stretching out both of his legs.  
  
Standing, he eased himself into a few slower variations on hand-to-hand combat moves; sliding his left leg forward and leaning slightly into the pose, keeping his right shoulder back as he turned his body. He punched out, left, then right, testing the power behind his hands. Another deep breath, and he switched sides, both ankles taking his weight perfectly, causing a slip of a smile to appear on his lips. A few more strikes to the air, and he dropped into a crouch, using his left arm as support while his right leg swept across the ground in an arc. The momentum allowed him to push himself back and over his outstretched leg, land, and push himself back up off of both arms.  
  
Legolas walked over to the two knives dug into the sand, and pulled one out, listening to the sound of the metal against the grains. Weapon in his left hand, he went through some more showy movements, twirling the handle between his fingers, and flipping the long knife into the air, catching it, and arching it through the space in front of him. The sound echoed across the arena, singing, like a bell in the wind.  
  
Tossing the blade to his other hand, Legolas went through the same motions, making the movements as natural as he could regardless of the tense feeling of his muscles. He added in a few extra strikes to the end of the routine, hoping to shake out his arm from the onslaught that he’d put it through the day before.  
  
Bouncing lightly on his feet, he decided he was as warmed up as he was going to be, and collected the other knife from the ground. The sun was slowly stalking up into the lighter sky, the darkness of night having finally faded away. He effortlessly slid into one of his many routines, swinging the knives with practiced ease, curving their blades in an everlasting double circle that overlapped in the middle. The dull metal moved swiftly over his arms and shoulders, and as he grew confident with his movements, he added in kicks and turns, spinning ever so lightly and quickly on his feet.  
  
To end this particular set of movements, he cast himself into the air, letting the momentum turn his body as it had before, landed, and rolled over and forwards to stop, shoving the blade in his right hand into the ground in front of him. He was covered in sand now, and the dirt from underneath in had also found its way across his cheek. As he moved to brush it away on the back of his left hand, his head snapped up, turning sharply towards a figure looming in the corner near the weapons shed, where the sun’s rays didn’t quite yet reach. He loosened his stance, rising to his feet, and walked closer to the shadowed person, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“My friend, if you’re going to watch, you may as well assist me,” Legolas said, reaching the edge of the arena.  
  
“Disobeying your father’s orders, tithen las? I expected better, have I taught you nothing?” Glorfindel said, with a serious expression.  
  
It took a moment, but once it had passed, they both burst out laughing. Glorfindel walked to Legolas’ side, and wiped the dirt from his cheek using the back of his own hand; dusting it off on his leggings.  
  
“Honestly, young one, look at the mess of you,” the elder elf said with a fond gaze.  
  
Legolas’ hair had come loose, strands flying in the wind away from his face. His clothes were streaked, the black shirt and dark leggings covered in sand where he’d rolled and kneeled in the arena. The grains stuck to his boots, even as he stood and stamped the toe of his right against the grass. But his eyes, they were alight, blue and bright, the oceanic sky reflection that Glorfindel remembered seeing back when the elf in front of him had been young, playing with the twins and Arwen in the gardens. Even so, there was some redness to them, and the skin underneath looked minutely dark.  
  
“You’ve been awake a while, ‘Las. I trust you’ve not been out here all that time?”  
  
Legolas shook his head negatively, “No, just a couple hours. I was in the library for the rest.”  
  
“Ah! You found the maps then?”  
  
“Indeed, thank you, my friend. They have proved most helpful thus far,” Legolas said, smiling. “Now come, are you helping or are you going to stand there? Something feels wrong in my stance, and I need someone I trust to find it.”  
  
“It looked well from where I was standing, but we shall see. Come, then,” Glorfindel agreed, withdrawing the sword from his belt and moving to the centre of the arena with Legolas.  
  
Legolas stood calmly in front of Glorfindel, face to face with the other warrior. He stepped into a defensive stance, Glorfindel followed suit, his eyes roaming over Legolas’ form as they began to breathe in tandem. Taking the hint from Legolas’ stance choice, Glorfindel struck forward with his blade, it was countered easily enough, but once he swung again, taking mental notes of each of Legolas’ movements.  
  
“Your weight is evenly distributed, despite you having lost some since you were last here. You’re too well-adjusted for it to have happened quickly, so it must have happened over time. You were on patrol before Lord Elrond retrieved you?” Glorfindel said.  
  
“Yes,” Legolas confirmed, blocking another of Glorfindel’s attacks. “I’d not been back in the palace a day when I had to leave once more.”  
  
“The weight loss seems more severe than it should be.”  
  
Legolas winced at the tone in Glorfindel’s voice. One part anger, three parts protective. “Yes... We... That is, there was an increase in the number of patrols sent out during any given month, and with the new recruits flooding in, I did not want...”  
  
“Them to be sent out instead?” Glorfindel finished.  
  
Legolas nodded.  
  
“That explains your lethargy in the days that followed your arrival here, you were finally able to rest,” Glorfindel noted, arcing his blade across Legolas’ chest, watching the elf jump back with a quick reaction time. “There.”  
  
Legolas stared at Glorfindel from across the space between them. The wood elf’s stance was guarded, turned inwards to the right.  
  
“You see it?” He asked.  
  
“You’re guarding ever so slightly more than you usually would. Ensuring that your shoulder won’t come into contact with anything you can’t see. Your stance would also allow you to see easier behind you on that side, which I would guess is where you were shot from?” The Balrog-slayer examined.  
  
“Yes,” Legolas confirmed. “How do I stop over-guarding? ‘Tis not a habit I wish to keep. I feel rather off-balance, even if I don’t look it.”  
  
Glorfindel grinned, rushing forward and striking again, his grin widened at the clash of his blade against Legolas’. “We fight, and by the time we’ve finished, we hope that your body regains its usual formations.”  
  
Legolas pushed, counting Glorfindel’s sword and shoving him away. He smiled. “Then, let’s.”  
  
The metallic clash of their weapons rang loudly throughout the training arena. They kept at each other, Glorfindel pushing Legolas from every side, letting the elf get used to fighting, to using his body and weapons, without feeling as if he was going to be violently attacked. It was a friendlier way to re-introduce an injured warrior to their fighting style. Reacquainting a fighter with his or her body after prolonged periods of danger and/or injury. At this point, Legolas needed everything Glorfindel was willing to give. And for the young wood elf, the Balrog-slayer was willing to give an immense amount; to help in any way possible to ensure that Legolas felt he could, in fact, trust himself and his instincts.  
  
“You’re doing well, don’t believe that you’re not,” Glorfindel said, trying his best to push Legolas back.  
  
Legolas defended for a moment more, and then switched tactics, dropping to avoid Glorfindel’s strike, and sweeping his leg out in the same move he’d practiced much earlier.  
  
“Very well done!” Glorfindel exclaimed, even as he stumbled to avoid falling over.  
  
Legolas sprang back up, relentless, and span into a strike, both of his knives hitting Glorfindel’s sword.  
  
Glorfindel smiled widely. “Seems we’re gaining an audience.”  
  
Legolas spared a second to glance past the shoulders of his sparring partner. The sun was high now, gleaming down on them, but not high enough for noon. Mid-morning then, at most. The warriors of Imladris had started to trickle into the training grounds, dressed lightly in combat clothing. There were perhaps enough for two medium sized patrols at the moment, but not a large amount of overseers. They watched them fight with eager eyes. As Legolas backed off to use another manoeuvre, he noted the grinning faces of the twins, watching intently as he rounded on Glorfindel again, striking at the Elf’s front. Glorfindel countered, but was knocked off balance, staggering a couple steps.  
  
“Very nice! Your form is much better, keep going!” He encouraged, smiling widely.  
  
Legolas kicked into his next move, twisting his body mid-air, and landing against Glorfindel with the loud clashing strike of metal on metal. Glorfindel shoved the smaller elf back, overpowering him, and purposefully moved his next strike to push back at Legolas’ tender shoulder. Legolas let out a quiet, tight-lipped hiss, gritting his teeth. He said nothing, only forcing his knives against Glorfindel’s sword and thrusting forward, causing Glorfindel to withdraw.  
  
Without a change in stance, Legolas advanced again, colliding his weapons with his partner’s again. He twisted again, landing blow after blow against Glorfindel’s sword, before finally, crossing both against the longsword, and using the energy to push himself back a few steps.  
  
They stood, facing each other, weapons still raised, chests and shoulders moving with exertion. For a moment, no one said a word, for a moment, all they did was stare each other down. For a moment. And then, smiles blossomed across each of their faces, and laughter burst forth from their lips. It was short-lived, but friendly. They lowered their weapons and bowed to one another. The crowd cheered in an uproar, clapping and yelling their appreciation.  
  
“You did well, your stance is much improved, but your shoulder isn’t quiet healed yet. It can withstand a lot of punishment, but I would not yet send you out unless an emergency arose,” Glorfindel commented, sheaving his sword and slapping his hand onto Legolas’ healthy shoulder in companionship.  
  
“That is well, and more than I was expecting at this stage,” Legolas said, staring wistfully up at the sky before returning his gaze to Glorfindel’s. “Thank you, mellon nin, you’ve been more than helpful.”  
  
“Anytime, tithen las! Sparring against you is one of the few challenges I receive. And the soldiers seem to enjoy it, at the least,” Glorfindel grinned. “Go, bathe, rest, if you can. I’ll see you later in the library perhaps? You can talk me through some of your ideas.”  
  
“And even more helpful you’ve become! That would be most welcome,” Legolas replied, moving to grasp the forearm of his sparring partner. “It was enjoyable to not be fighting for my life for once, my friend. We shall have to do this again soon.”  
  
Glorfindel grasped Legolas’ arm in a tightly comfortable grip. “Of course, young one. Anytime. Now, go, I believe the twins are waiting for you.”  
  
Legolas grinned in goodbye, passing his weapons off to a solider by the shed and retrieving his over-tunic from the floor. He turned, making his way through the gathered crowd of warrior towards his brothers. He was stopped several times and commended on his spar.  
  
“Lord Legolas, it’s so wonderful to have you home again!”  
  
“Gracious fight, m’Lord! It’s always a pleasure to watch!”  
  
“Lord Legolas, I heard you’d been injured! Are you alright now?”  
  
“M’Lord! Will you be joining us for practice again?”  
  
He turned, facing groups of elves he had fought beside and trained. “It is good to be home, and it is wonderful to see you all again. Glorfindel is wanting to bring me in to train you once more, so you have that to look forward too,” he said with a somewhat evil grin at the groans that followed his statement. “I was injured, but I am doing much better, you know how it is. And I will happily join you for practice again, how else am I to keep my skills sharp? But I have asked you before, please stop using my title. Just Legolas. Not Lord.”  
  
The crowd laughed, many reaching to clasp their hands onto some part of Legolas’ body as he walked past. Eventually, he reached the twins, who started clapping and cheering immediately.  
  
“Legolas, that was amazing!” Elrohir said.  
  
“Valar, I’ve missed watching you and Glorfindel fight. It’s always so thrilling!” Elladan added.  
  
“Though, I’m sure you were supposed to rest today,” Elrohir sang, smiling.  
  
“Well, when one can’t sleep, other things take priority. And I couldn’t pour over books all night and day, could I?” Legolas countered.  
  
Elladan laughed. “True, muindor. Anything we can help with?”  
  
“I’m going to go bathe. Would you mind going over the maps I’ve left in the library? Mark any new paths into Imladris I may have missed?” Legolas asked the twins.  
  
“Our pleasure, muindor,” they replied, walking towards the house with Legolas between them, arms hooked through his.


End file.
